


Variations On A Theme

by Major_Roon



Category: Copycat (1995)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 57,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3095324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Major_Roon/pseuds/Major_Roon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Peter Foley's rampage, Helen and MJ navigate the pitfalls of everyday life. While investigating a series of murders, they try to return to normality yet need each other to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Day

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This is my first time post to this archive and naturally I'm very excited! This fiction - believe it or not - came about solely on my mobile device. Crazy. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the story and let me know what you think. Constructive criticism welcome!
> 
> Disclaimer:
> 
> All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plots, books, lyrics etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of major_roon. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Archiving only with the permission of the author.

**  
**

 

 

There was a knock on her door, and although MJ was somewhat looking forward to the distraction, she began to loathe the constant stream of well wishers. 

 

"I'll get it. You stay put." 

 

Her mother hurried to the front door, feeling obliged to complete even the most menial of tasks for MJ.

 

"Nothing wrong with my legs!" The inspector sing-songed but the comment went straight over her mother's head - or perhaps she just chose not to comment. Not bothering to get upset over her mother's treatment, MJ instead opted to crane her neck and hopefully catch a glimpse of her visitor.

 

"Oh, come on in, doctor. I'm MJ's momma."

 

MJ rolled her eyes. 

 

"I'm sorry."

 

The inspector leapt to her feet at the sound of the familiar voice and rounded the sofa.

 

"Perhaps I should've called--"

 

"Helen." MJ came to an abrupt halt in the doorway, blinking at the tall figure in her hallway. "How did you get here?"

 

"I took a cab,” Helen said as if that answered the question.

 

MJ let out a shaky chuckle although she wasn't the slightest bit amused. Surprised and, well, shocked. 

 

The inspector let her eyes roam over Helen Hudson, examining. She looked well put together in her pantsuit, and composed for someone with a purple neckline. The bruises stood out in stark contrast to the pale skin, and as MJ stared, Helen adjusted her scarf.

 

"Well," MJ's mother said. "I'll leave you to it." She disappeared into the kitchen. 

 

"Now, seriously: how did you get here?"

 

"Trust me," Helen said demurely. "I'm as surprised as you are."

 

In the living room, MJ switched off the TV, cutting off whatever embarrassing soap opera was blaring in the background. "Well, I'm flattered you dragged yourself out of the house to come see little old me..."

 

"Don't be," Helen said. "I came for purely selfish reasons." The doctor seemed to smile to herself then shook her head. "I wanted to see how you're doing...with my own two eyes."

 

"Ah," MJ nodded. "I’m just peachy."

 

"How is the shoulder?"

 

The inspector glared at the sling that held her arm in place. "Almost as good as new, they said."

 

"Are you in pain?"

 

MJ sighed, not answering. "How are you feelin'?"

 

Helen tilted her head contemplatively. "Been better...been worse. To be honest, I don't really know."

 

"Same..."

 

They sat slowly on opposite ends of the couch, silent until a loud bang from the kitchen startled them. MJ smirked; her mother was cooking, again. "Maybe you can help me convince my momma to go back home on Saturday? She thinks I'm an invalid but honestly," MJ said and leaned in, "she's been driving me stir crazy."

 

"I heard that!"

 

"Good!" The inspector yelled in the direction of the kitchen then leaned in further and said, in a lowered voice, "I'm serious. Get her out of here."

 

Helen chuckled and smoothed out a wrinkle in her black pant leg. "Actually," she started somewhat selfconciously. "Actually, I was wondering, Inspector--"

 

"Inspector?" 

 

"Yes--"

 

"You gotta do better than that if you want me to do whatever it is you came here for."

 

"Well..."

 

The doctor let out a humorless laugh that betrayed her anxiety, and for a moment MJ did feel bad, but then, that banter, it was what they had always done; after all, MJ reminded herself, Helen did appreciate her candor.

 

"MJ..."

 

"Helen?"

 

"I was wondering if I could come to Reuben's, I mean, Inspector Goetz's funeral with you tomorrow?"

 

MJ felt her features slacken, having spent the better part of her day trying to avoid to even think of tomorrow. Her bottom lip wobbled, an awful giveaway that was, and so MJ opted to speak before she cried. "Course! Sure, I'll--I'll--"

 

"It's just that, uh, that..." Helen trailed off for a moment, tears in her eyes. MJ watched her, hoping, praying, that she would not cry either, that the good doctor would keep it together for both their sakes.

 

Helen shook her head, wiping at her eyes in her usual delicate manner, dabbing with her fingers and exposing her bruised wrists. 

 

"It's just that...it was Andy's funeral today..."

 

"Oh, shit!" How could she have forgotten? "I should've been there."

 

"No, no. You have enough on your plate as it is."

 

MJ scoffed. "Like what?! Helen. I'm so sorry...I really should've been there."

 

"Well," Helen said quietly. "It wouldn't have mattered...they told me to leave..."

 

"What? Why?"

 

"They blame me," Helen said. "I understand why..."

 

"It wasn't your fault."

 

"I feel responsible for what happened to Andy and I just wanted to say goodbye to him. He was my friend, my best friend...” She tilted her head, momentarily retreating into her own world. “My only friend.”

 

MJ nodded and patted Helen's hand just like Helen had on the roof when she had pried the gun out of her hands. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I'll pick you up tomorrow and we'll go together, promise."

 

Helen looked at her then and squeezed MJ's hand, engulfing it in both her own tightly. "Thank you."

 

***

 

Brand new green carpet, MJ thought as she walked down the long corridor to Helen's apartment door. Someone had gone over the place with a fine toothcombe to make sure there wasn't a shred left of the horrific crime that had taken place. Not a speck of blood. Nothing. Wiped away and flushed down the drain.

 

All that was left was the stench of bleach and that new carpet smell. 

 

Almost like a new car, she mused nonsensically as she stood in front of the heavy door. 

 

The last time she had been here...well.

 

MJ swallowed and lifted her fist to knock but the door swung open and Helen stood before her in yet another black suit. "You're here," she groused and promptly swept back into the apartment. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea."

 

"Going to the funeral?" MJ asked dumbly, recognizing the bewildered expression on Helen's face. "We gotta go, Nico's downstairs."

 

"Maybe you should go with him--"

 

"He's not coming. He's just dropping us off."

 

Helen merely stared at her then shook her head. "Why isn't he coming?"

 

"Cause--," MJ said evenly. "Long story." 

 

"They told him not to come," Helen concluded, empathetic to Nico's situation after having been on the receiving end of the same treatment just yesterday.

 

MJ didn't comment or argue, she was too exhausted for it and too raw. "C'mon, let's go."

 

Tracing an imaginary pattern on her desk, Helen bit her lip. "The thing is...I'm not sure that I can."

 

"What do you mean? You did it yesterday, you can do it today." MJ glared at the figure who refused to meet her eye, annoyed, impatient. 

 

_...but it’s what Reuben would have wanted._

 

"Hey," MJ rounded the desk and reached out, touching Helen's arm. "This time round you've got me, right?" The inspector caught a glimpse of Helen's sullen features. "I'm not sure what good I'm gonna be in this condition but I do have exceptional aim."

 

Helen finally lifted her head, a small, careless smile playing around her lips. The doctor took a deep breath and released it in a big sigh. "Okay," she said and nodded, mind made up.

 

Then Helen straightened the collar of her uniform around the constricting strap of her sling with a gentleness that wasn't at all required; MJ groused to herself - she wasn't made of glass after all.

 

"There," Helen said quietly and smiled again. "You look very handsome, Inspector."

 

"Thanks," MJ said, feeling ridiculously bashful. "Ready?"

 

"As ready as I'll ever be," Helen said even though she looked far from it.

 

No matter, MJ mused and stepped out into the corridor, if Peter Foley could get Helen Hudson on a roof, she'd at least get her out of her apartment. 

 

And so MJ reached out her hand toward the woman huddled in the doorway and pulled her out, into the open, into what she feared most. Draping Helen's hand around her sling encased arm and leading her down the hallway, MJ couldn't help but feel a nagging sense of accomplishment. 

 

"Now, one thing," she said lightly.

 

"Yes, Inspector?"

 

"Don't be sick on the carpet...it's brand new."

 

"Very funny..."

 

"I know," MJ sing-songed. "That's why you keep me 'round, Doc, my amazing sense of humor."

 

Helen laughed. "I assure you, Inspector, there's plenty more to you than your humor."

 

"My pretty face?" MJ drawled as she opened the door for Helen who merely lifted an eyebrow at her.

 

"The uniform, Inspector...the uniform..."

 

"I'll keep that in mind."

 

"Do you always have to have the last word?"

 

"I don't know. Do I?"

 

Helen groaned. "I give up!"

 

MJ shrugged nonchalantly as they stepped outside. "Sounds like a good idea..."

 

"Who needs a gun when they have your running mouth?"

 

"It's working or isn't it? Can't walk you down the stairs at gunpoint."

 

"You're impossible!"

 

"Now who has to have the last word?"

 

***

 

Helen stared at MJ's reflection in the car window, she seemed very composed, very calm. Helen found herself fascinated with the Inspector's poise. She hadn't cried, just shed the odd tear - pulled together and strong even in her grief, whereas Helen had succumbed to the sadness and had cried.

 

"How was the service?" Nico asked, breaking the silence in the car.

 

MJ leaned her head against the windowpane and closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, she was looking straight at Helen. The doctor stared back at the reflection, not sure whether the inspector saw her or not.

 

"It was beautiful," MJ said and Helen was pretty sure then that the other woman was looking at her.

 

"Good..." Nico glanced sideways. "Did you talk to his mother?"

 

"Yeah," MJ said and looked away as they pulled up in front of the apartment. "She's devastated. He was her only son."

 

Nico put the car in park and hit the steering wheel in anger. "Fuck!"

 

Helen sat still then glanced at her apartment building longingly. "Thank you for the ride, Inspector."

 

"It's just Nico now," he said through gritted teeth. "I doubt I'm getting my job back."

 

Before Helen could say something to diffuse the situation, MJ threw the car door open and got out.

 

"Where are you going?"

 

The inspector poked her head back in. "I'm stayin' for a while. I'm not ready to be wrapped up in cotton wool again just yet." With that, she slammed the door and opened Helen's with more gusto than was really necessary. "Let's get you back inside, Helen."

 

Guilt was a funny thing, the doctor mused as she followed MJ up the stairs and along the hallway. Whatever had happened with Reuben, Helen wasn't entirely sure as they hadn't had a single moment to talk, but whatever it was, Helen was sure it was eating away at the wee Inspector.

 

Nico's gun or not.

 

Unlocking her front door, Helen felt the prickling of fear, uncertainty. She felt decidedly ill. And she was being silly. This whole thing was terribly unhealthy, she thought, as her mood turned sour in the presence of MJ's rotten expression.

 

She was dependent on a good many things as it was. Perhaps alcohol, perhaps uppers, or downers, both - she knew she couldn’t be with one and not the other. 

 

But to add MJ Monahan to the list seemed ridiculous.

 

Inside Helen abandoned her trivial thoughts and shrugged out of her black velvet blazer. MJ had taken off her hat and had flung it on the coffee table. 

 

"Can I offer you a drink?" Helen asked, pouring without even realizing a generous glass of brandy.

 

"Got any bourbon?"

 

Glancing down at her hands, moving almost by themselves around the various decanters, Helen grabbed a tumbler. "I have rye..."

 

MJ smirked at that. "Even better."

 

"I didn't think you drank," Helen commented.

 

"You've never seen me off duty..." MJ pulled her gun from her holster. "And I don't...much."

 

"Which is it?"

 

There was no answer. Helen looked up and found the inspector staring at her service weapon. 

 

Helen stilled, drinks in her hands, and felt suddenly afraid. "MJ?" The woman didn't move. Helen took a deep breath, she had to be brave, and walked over slowly, placing the drinks onto the coffee table. She stood there for a moment, in the fragile silence then reached out and steadied the tremor that ran through MJ's hand.

 

"Mary Jane..."

 

"Hmm?" 

 

Helen pulled away, holding onto the gun. It was heavy, just like she remembered when she had felt the unexpected weight of it on the rooftop. 

 

"I've got your drink..."

 

MJ nodded and picked up the glass. "IAB only gave 'em back to me three days ago," she rambled nonsensically. "I mean, I shot the asshole, I don't know what took 'em so long, you know?"

 

MJ took a swig of the rye whiskey and swallowed hard as Helen placed the gun onto the table, next to the hat. 

 

"MJ?" Helen said quietly and pried the drink out of the smaller woman's hands. "You don't always have to be strong."

 

The inspector snorted. "I'm not as fragile as you think."

 

Helen sighed and placed the drink on the table then looked straight into MJ's eyes, a knowing look passing between them. "Well...neither am I."

 

"Helen..."

 

Her expression was one of pure stoicism yet her lip wobbled ever so slightly. Helen pulled the small frame against herself, resting her chin on MJ's head, nuzzling her hair. MJ pressed her eyes against her chest and winced.

 

"I'm sorry," Helen pulled back, mindful of the damaged shoulder but then, without warning, MJ cried. She sobbed, tears streaming from her eyes and onto Helen's silk blouse, fingers fisting the material, nails digging into her back. 

 

All the fight seemed to leave MJ's body right then and there, leaving behind a woman Helen had merely caught glimpses of before. 

 

"It's alright," she cooed.

 

"It hurts!" 

 

"I know...I know..."

 

"I hurt all over."

 

Helen screwed her eyes shut - me too, she thought, me too.

 

***

 

Helen wrapped her robe tightly around herself as she looked through the peep hole. As the blonde, coifed visage of MJ's mother came into view, she wanted to groan. 

 

She opened the door despite her anxiety and plastered what she hoped was a pleasant smile onto her face. "Mrs. Monahan..."

 

"Doctor Hudson...this might sound awful silly but is Mary Jane here?"

 

Helen glanced back into the apartment and nodded. "Yes...she is out cold on the couch."

 

"Ah," the other woman said. "Nico said she just got out of the car and took off."

 

"She was very upset."

 

"Well," Mrs. Monahan sighed. "I suppose I should haul her sorry behind back to her house and leave you in peace."

 

"Oh, no," Helen said quickly, "it's quite alright. I don't mind her staying, in fact I could do with the company."

 

The other woman seemed to contemplate her words, studying Helen's features for a moment. "As long as you're sure."

 

"I am," Helen said. "I'm sure. She's no trouble and I quite like having her there."

 

"Alright then...thank you, doctor."

 

"Helen," she said and offered her hand.

 

"Patricia." 

 

They shook on it, their newfound alliance. 

 

"Have a good night..."

 

"Night," Helen replied and shut the door. Trundling back into the apartment, she decided to check on MJ who lay huddled beneath a knitted throw. Helen stood over her, not sure what she was trying to do - adjust the blanket or some such nonsense - but really, she was only staring at the small frame and the innocent features.

 

She looked nothing like a hardened cop. 

 

"Helen?"

 

She jumped, heart pounding in her chest. "Christ, don't ever do that again!"

 

MJ snorted sleepily and turned onto her back, looking up at Helen. "She gone?"

 

"All gone..." As Andy used to say. 

 

"She's not coming back?"

 

"No," Helen replied gently, sitting on the very edge of her coffee table. "You're safe. For now."

 

MJ smiled and didn't protest as Helen undid her tie and pulled it off. "Thanks, Helen...I owe you."

 

***

 

The next morning came far too soon; Helen felt like she had barely slept. Her eyes stung from yesterday, all the crying had left her with dark circles and a nasty headache. She washed two pills down over the bathroom sink and groaned at her own appearance.

 

"Look at yourself..."

 

Clearing her head from the last vestiges of sleep, cobwebs and all, Helen braved the stairs. She felt decidedly hung over and she hadn't even had a drink last night. Perhaps that was it? But then it was too early for even her to think about her next drink. 

 

Downstairs she was met with silence and a deserted couch. 

 

Helen just looked at the empty space then her mind caught up. 

 

"MJ?"

 

Nothing. 

 

With a defeated sigh, Helen trudged towards the sofa, her fingers dancing over the folded blanket then her eyes fell onto MJ's hat. 

 

It sat, upside down, on the coffee table, inside it a note.

 

'Helen,' it said. 'Thanks for last night. MJ.'

 

 

*****

 


	2. The First Day

 

 

MJ wandered down the all too familiar hallway in what she designated her out of work clothes. She really ought to go shopping, she thought, especially now that she had been put on sick leave, duration: undetermined. The sling would come off next week though. 

 

She kept that in mind as she lifted her arm to knock only to nearly double over in pain. 

 

"God damnit!" Breathing out noisily, MJ lifted her arm, the other one, and rapped on the door. There was no response. Not to be deterred that easily, and pretty damn sure that the doctor was in, MJ knocked again. 

 

"Helen, it's me! Open up!" 

 

As if on cue, the door swung open to reveal her friend. 

 

MJ blinked at the car crash that was Helen Hudson then brushed past the women before she decided to slam the door in her face. "You look like something the cat dragged in. Backward."

 

"Why, thank you, Inspector. I was busy."

 

MJ navigated around a stack of boxes. "You movin'?"

 

"No," Helen replied indignantly. "Those are Andy's things...his sister is coming by to pick them up."

 

The inspector nodded, making a beeline for the kitchen with Helen hot on her tail. "Just dropped my mother off at the airport."

 

"Congratulations."

 

"Thanks."

 

"Wait a minute: You drove? With that arm?"

 

"I can steer...and use the blinkers."

 

"Are you out of your mind?"

 

"I had a seatbelt on," MJ shrugged. "Got any coffee?"

 

Helen crossed her arms defiantly and plopped against the counter. "I'm out of coffee."

 

"C'mon, let's go down to the farmers’ market, pick up some coffee, too."

 

"I don't feel like going out today," Helen remained stubborn.

 

MJ scoffed and opened the fridge without even looking. "You been out since Thursday? Guess not." She slammed the nearly empty fridge shut. "You can either come down to the market with me and I'll cook something nice or stay in and I'll get you a cat. She'll eat you, once you've starved to death. Picture the headlines..."

 

MJ picked up a gone brown banana with a pointed look. 

 

"I'll get take out."

 

"Crazy cat lady, choked on her chow mein."

 

Helen slumped and rolled her eyes. "You're cooking? One handed?"

 

Shrugging, MJ meandered towards the front door. "Never said I was gonna do the manual labor."

 

"I see," Helen drawled. "I was just drafted, wasn't I?"

 

"I'm incomplete if I can't tell someone what to do." MJ swung open the front door, one eye on Helen and the impending panic attack. "I gotta say, it's a beautiful day out there. Here, take your purse." 

 

"I really couldn't care less," Helen grumped. "Rain, sunshine or a tornado, it's all the same to me."

 

"Helen..." MJ sing-songed and held out her hand, just like last time. 

 

The doctor stared at the proffered appendage and placed her hand into MJ's. And, just like last time, the inspector pulled her out into the hallway. 

 

"I have no jacket."

 

***

 

"What is it?"

 

"Everything changed..."

 

MJ looked up at the tall brunette as they perused the stalls. "How long has it been?"

 

"Too long..." 

 

The inspector nodded, hands deep in her jean pockets. Helen really could not care less, letting her mind wander, comparing reality to memory. 

 

The little shop she used to get her cakes and pastries from was gone, in its place a bank. The butcher's had changed hands...

 

She hoped that little place she knew, that had coffees from all over the world, and teas and chocolates was still there. She'd get that Jamaican blend - MJ would love it. 

 

Turning around, Helen's smile fell. Where was she?

 

Staring into the crowd for that familiar face, Helen faltered; where had she gone? Had she left? Feeling hot and cold at the same time, her heart pounding and the adrenaline pumping through her veins like poison, Helen forced herself to take one steady breath after the other.

 

She wasn't sure what was scaring her more - having a panic attack in the first place or looking like a complete loon having one in public.

 

"I'm here." 

 

MJ's delicate fingers wrapped around her arm firmly, forcing her gaze away from the overwhelming space and onto the Inspector's solid frame. 

 

"Are you okay?"

 

Helen blinked at MJ's innocent doe eyed expression and nodded wordlessly.

 

"I got steaks." She held up a plastic bag and smiled winningly. 

 

Swallowing, although her mouth felt like sandpaper, the doctor tried to compose herself. "I thought you'd left."

 

"Now why would I do that?"

 

Helen studied the other woman intently, concluding quite logically that MJ wouldn't. She had gone to get steaks, that was all. 

 

"Uhm," Helen felt terribly foolish now. How emarrassing. 

 

How utterly stupid, really.

 

"Hey," MJ said, still holding onto her. "I wouldn't abandon you. You know that, right?"

 

Helen nodded - she did know that. "C'mon, I've got a surprise for you." She patted MJ's hand. 

 

"What is it?" 

 

"Patience, Inspector. I know it's not your strong suit."

 

***

 

MJ watched another drop splash into the sea of black, ripples spiralling, steam rising.

 

"I thought you were hungry?"

 

The inspector didn't budge from her position in front of the coffee maker, staring into the glass jug. "Coffee first." She tapped the jug with her finger and smiled. "I think it's done."

 

"Excellent," Helen mocked - if she had known coffee would inspire this reaction, well...

 

"How do you take it, doc?"

 

"Black."

 

MJ grinned as she poured. "Same as." 

 

"Smells devine," Helen mocked but MJ didn't seem to pay her any notice. 

 

"Sure does," the smaller woman replied absent-mindedly and took her first sip. "Amazing..." She cooed over the steaming cup. 

 

Helen snorted to herself and continued to unpack the shopping, wondering what they were having for dinner.

 

"Now that we're ready," MJ said. "You better get peeling potatoes."

 

***

 

"Okay," MJ wiped her hands and surveyed her pots and pans. "This is nearly hot enough. You can get the potatoes out."

 

Helen rolled her eyes and opened the oven, removing the roast potatoes with a glove. This had been an enjoyable exercise, admittedly. Andy had taken care of dinner, mostly, even though Helen remembered hardly eating. 

 

He had always complained about it, especially her need to have 'that deli grub' for 'purely pretentious reasons'. 

 

"Watch this," MJ said enthusiastically. "This'll be the best steak you'll ever have."

 

"Is that a promise?" Helen glanced over the inspector's shoulder. 

 

She picked up a steak, seasoned it and placed it into the pan then added the other. "The asparagus, can you get it?"

 

Six minutes later they sat at the table. MJ cut into the steak with more gusto than to be expected from someone with a bullet hole in their shoulder. 

 

"That looks like it should still be mooing."

 

"It's perfect," the inspector said and picked up her corn. 

 

Helen watched her for a moment, watched the small woman devour her roast potatoes with an expression of a pleasure she herself hadn't felt in a very long time. Helen's insides warmed at sharing that pleasure. 

 

"C'mon," MJ groused. "It's gettin' cold!"

 

The doctor smiled and cut into her beef. Slightly pink and utterly juicy. She chewed slowly, experiencing the buttery flavors on her palate and hummed. 

 

"Mary Jane?" 

 

"Hm?"

 

"It's lovely. Thank you."

 

MJ smiled back at her, almost bashful. "You're welcome..."

 

 

*****


	3. Yesterday

 

 

"Hello?"

 

"This is Inspector Monahan, am I speaking to a...Doctor Hudson?"

 

Helen smiled, nearly laughed. "This is she. What can I do for you, Inspector?"

 

"I don't know," MJ replied coyly. "I was wantin' to inquire about a moon bike, got any of those?"

 

"Ha," Helen barked. "I don't have time for crank calls."

 

"You calling me a crank?"

 

Helen bit her lip rather uncharacteristically. "I might...now, Inspector, what is this really about?"

 

"Well...I got the sling off today."

 

"You did?! Why didn't you say anything?"

 

There was silence on the other end of the line then Helen heard a gentle sigh. "So, what did the doctor's say? How's the arm?"

 

"S'all good. Full mobility. I gotta see this guy twice a week though."

 

"Sounds great." Helen bit her lip, gathering her courage, for what, she wasn't sure. "Hey, do you want to come over? I still have some of that coffee left..."

 

"Coffee, eh?" MJ breathed into the receiver. "I'm not that easy, Helen."

 

Awash with diappointment, and feeling quite foolish too, Helen screwed her eyes shut. 

 

"How 'bout you meet me at that French place for coffee? You're buying."

 

At that French place? "Ah, the patisserie. I didn't think you liked it?"

 

"Well..." MJ replied coyly. "I know you like it."

 

She did like it, Helen thought. It used to be one of her favorite places even. The doctor found herself blushing and before she could talk herself out of it, she conceeded. "Fine. In an hour?"

 

"Sounds good to me! I'll see you there."

 

MJ hung up and Helen was left to stare at the phone. Had she really just agreed to this? How was she going to pull this one off? It had taken her days to talk herself into going to Andy's funeral, that and nearly double the recommended dose of xanax. 

 

Glancing at her decanters, Helen felt the overwhelming urge to drink a really big glass of brandy. 

 

'Did that help any?' She remembered MJ asking one time over Peter Foley's fanmail. Truth be told: yes. 

 

Helen had spent a big chunk of the past year fairly numb to pretty much everything and deep down she regretted that. She couldn't clearly remember the last time she had watched a movie with Andy. Back in the day, before she had turned into a complete basket case, they had watched a great many films. Andy especially liked thrillers and sci-fi, even though he usually spent the better part of the movie hiding behind a pillow.

 

But as time went on and months ticked by, things changed. Was it the ever greater amount of wine Helen had made him buy? Was it when she had asked for brandy instead? When she rang her doctor who, and Helen had to laugh at that, was too intimidated by her and would prescribe her anything she asked for - valium and xanax aren't cutting it anymore, Doctor Nesbit. 

 

She got worse, Helen concluded, time had healed nothing, it had only rotted away at her brain and given her fear stricken heart the opportunity to rationalize her absurd paranoia and turn it into this.

 

House bound. Agoraphobia.

 

And if she left things this way, soon she wouldn't go out for coffee anymore but order her groceries in and get the cheapest brandy there was because, by then, she didn't care at all.

 

And then MJ would stop visiting. 

 

Helen swallowed heavily and picked up the brandy. She went straight into the kitchen and poured it down the sink. Watching the amber liquid swirl down the drain, the doctor felt fearful yet accomplished. Spurred on, she opened every cupboard, looked in every nook and cranny she could think of, pouring wine and whiskey and gin away.

 

She swept into her bathroom, emptying shelves of pill bottles, checked her drawers, checked beneath the sofa cushions, checked her desk. 

 

She would have to breathe into brown paper bags from now on, panic attacks be damned. 

 

Collapsing against her front door surrounded by empty bottles and a rattling bag of pill bottles, Helen sobbed in anger. She was disgusted in herself, in what she had ended up as. How could she have let it get this far?

 

Undeterred, she went into the bathroom and, one pill bottle after the other, flushed them down the toilet.

 

Mission: accomplished.

 

Wiping at her sweaty brow, Helen went to the front door and grabbed her purse. With an indifference she hadn't achieved even after a good amount of alcohol she swung the door open and stepped out into the hallway. 

 

Her front door swung shut. 

 

Well, then...

 

Head held high, Helen left the building.

 

***

 

"You made it!" 

 

MJ sounded surprised and Helen felt flattered as she met the inspector at the table. 

 

"How's the shoulder?"

 

"Gettin' there," she said and sat. 

 

"Hi, there," a young waitress had snuck up on them. "What can I get you?"

 

"Cappuccino, please." 

 

MJ already had a cup of coffee that she held onto with both hands, warming her fingers and palms. "How are things, doc?"

 

"Pretty good," Helen said and actually meant it. "You?"

 

"Same old. Thought that now the sling's off I could go out for a run again soon."

 

"You run?"

 

MJ grinned coyly and picked up her coffee. "Gotta keep up my game. 'Sides, now that I'm just slouching around at home, I've got much more time to eat."

 

Helen just patted her arm. "You're as slender as ever, Inspector." Her cappuccino arrived and Helen added sugar, stirring placidly.

 

"You seem awful chipper today."

 

The doctor shrugged and drank her coffee. "I had an epiphany..."

 

"That it? You're not going to tell me what?"

 

"Nope..."

 

***

 

MJ turned over for the umpteenth time and glanced at the big, red numbers of her alarm clock. Frankly, she was about ready to pull the plug right out of the wall. 

 

"You're an idiot," she spoke into the darkness and turned onto the other side. 

 

She should be asleep, in fact, she should have been sleeping for several hours already but unconciousness seemed elude her. 

 

Perhaps, MJ thought, perhaps she should take the pills they had given her at the hospital. 

 

Or perhaps she should ask Helen what they were, first of all. Also, she mused, she wasn't even in that much pain - certainly not enough to keep her awake. 

 

She just wasn't tired. 

 

Then, almost to her relief, the phone rang. 

 

"Alright," MJ said. "I'm up." She made a dash for her phone, hoping it was Quinn with some emergency - understaffed and all - and could she come in? Even if it was just paperwork, although she would never voice that thought aloud. 

 

"Monahan?"

 

There was a hiccup on the other end then, "I know it's late." It was Helen and something in her voice wasn't quite right. 

 

"It's alright, I was up. You okay?"

 

"No, I mean...I'm not sure. I heard this noise, and I thought it came from outside but now I don't know!"

 

"Okay, stay where you are," MJ instructed, now fully alert. "I'll be right over."

 

"Ah! There it was again!"

 

"Stay put, I'm coming!" MJ slammed the phone down and slipped into her shoes, ignoring the fact that she was wearing a rather unattractive combo of tank top and sweats, and grabbed her jacket, keys and gun. 

 

On her way, speeding halfway across town, MJ prayed that Helen was merely imagining things - chances were that it was absolutely nothing to be worried about, especially at 4 o'clock in the morning. 

 

It had to catch up with the doctor eventually. She had seemed too stoic and much too chipper the other day when they had met for coffee. Honestly, MJ hadn't thought she would show up at all. She had expected a long wait and then a trip to the apartment where she would have found Helen huddled against the front door. 

 

Turning into Helen's apartment complex with screeching tyres, and barely killing the engine before she got out, MJ ran up the stairs and down the hallway. 

 

"Helen!" She pounded on the door which promptly swung open.

 

"Falls alarm," Helen said, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry."

 

MJ stormed into the apartment anyway, just to make sure, and went from room to room.

 

"I didn't know who else to call," Helen babbled behind her. "I just heard this noise, and it kept coming back...and then I couldn't sleep."

 

Satisfied that no one was there, MJ took in Helen's rumpled appearance and the general state of the place. 

 

"Sorry," Helen said again, snivelling, as she rounded the inspector and made to pick up the strewn about sofa cushions. "I think it was a cat, unless I have rats but it wasn't anybody. Maybe it was just in my head!" The woman moved onto the desk, straightening out paperwork and closing drawers.

 

"What the hell happened in here?"

 

"It was stupid," Helen said, crying suddenly. "I did a foolish thing and now I don't know whether it was a burglar or a cat...or maybe a rat. They do live near water, don't they?"

 

"Helen," MJ chased after the woman and into the kitchen where half the trash was spread across the floor. "Helen." She finally got hold of her and forced their gazes to meet. "What did you do?"

 

The tall brunette's face contorted then she sobbed. "I got rid of everything. And then I couldn't sleep because I flushed the sleeping pills, and then I heard the cat and it was freaking me out."

 

"And then?"

 

"Then I thought I was having a panic attack but my xanax, I flushed it, too. I didn't have any for two days, so I thought it must've been a cat."

 

MJ shook her a little. "Forget about the cat. What happened in here? The place is a mess!"

 

"Oh, that was me," Helen said evenly. "I was looking for valium...or xanax...or brandy, I'm not really sure, but I couldn't find any." She went on to pick up the trash. 

 

"Christ." MJ looked around and rubbed her face. "So you got rid of all your meds--"

 

"And the alcohol," Helen interjected.

 

"And the alcohol and you thought that was a good idea?" Slumping against the counter, MJ just watched for a moment. "Jesus, Helen."

 

"I know, I know. It was stupid. It's just...I didn't want to self-medicate anymore, and I thought I could just come off it, I wasn't taking it properly anyway but then the cat, or the rat--"

 

"Helen..."

 

"I'm sorry." 

 

Taking pity on the woman, MJ helped her up off the floor. "You go and sit down and I'll get some coffee going."

 

"Okay..."

 

Helen trudged into the living room and MJ took a moment to compose herself. Her heart was pounding mightily and the adrenalin in her veins made her shiver and tremble. "Christ," she said to herself and began the process of making coffee. A few minutes went by before she emerged from the kitchen with two cups of coffee and found Helen on the couch.

 

"Here..."

 

"Thanks," Helen said meekly and took the offered cup. "I'm sorry I dragged you out at this time of night...I just...I got scared, and I couldn't think of anything else to do."

 

"It's alright," MJ replied and brought her arm around Helen's shoulders. "I was awake anyhow."

 

"Really? At this time?"

 

The inspector sighed. "I haven't been sleepin' well." 

 

"I'm so sorry, MJ. I've been too caught up in my own head to notice anything or anyone else." Helen released a steady breath, clearly more composed and leaned into the inspector's small body. "Stay here tonight? This crank could do with the company."

 

 

*****


	4. Today

 

 

It was early morning, barely sunrise. The coffee was brewing as Helen looked out across the bay, yachts and boats gently riding the waves. The world looked crisp in the mornings, new and whole; it was Helen's favorite time, one she rarely found herself concious for unless she pulled one of her allnighters.

 

Wrapping her robe tighter around her body, Helen tore her eyes away. 

 

Deceptively beautiful as it was, nothing had changed. 

 

Except, perhaps, one thing. 

 

Pouring a generous cup of coffee, Helen made her way to Andy's room and halted in the doorway. Her eyes danced over MJ Monahan's slack features, her hair tied in a loose plait. 

 

She looked pale. 

 

Entering quietly, Helen placed the cup of coffee on the nightstand - perhaps she should leave her to sleep, she could certainly do with it. 

 

Looking down at the petite form, Helen felt something inside herself stirr. It was a sort of gentle warmth that made her smile without meaning to.

 

Her eyes fell onto MJ's shoulder; even though it was mostly concealed by the sheet, the doctor could still make out the red, angry mark marring the delicate skin. 

 

Sitting gingerly, she moved the sheet, Helen couldn't help herself and stared, shocked and appalled at the stitches and the forming scar. The warmth she had felt grew hotter and gave way to anger. Anger at Foley, at herself...MJ, who so selflessly, so stupidly had come to her rescue. 

 

"Mary Jane," she whispered and reached out. 

 

Affection, that was it, wasn't it? Helen smiled morosely, she could barely remember what that felt like. 

 

Her fingertips made contact with the delicate skin.

 

MJ breathed in sharply, her eyes flying open. 

 

"Sorry," Helen said hastily. "I don't know what I was thinking." She made to get up but MJ held onto her. 

 

"Is that coffee?"

 

Helen nodded, relieved somehow and watched MJ sit up. "Here..." The steamimg cup made its way into the inspector's hands and to her lips. She sipped delicately and smiled, pleased.

 

"Good morning," she said, her drawl unusually pronounced. 

 

"Morning." Helen watched the wee inspector slurp her coffee then said, "Thanks for staying last night."

 

"Thanks for letting me," MJ replied. "You know, I was thinking..."

 

"Careful now."

 

MJ grinned. "I was thinking, maybe it would be a good idea if I stayed for a bit longer."

 

"A bit longer?"

 

The inspector nodded. "A week or so..."

 

"You don't have to do that, MJ."

 

"Well...I guess it's nice to be needed..."

 

"Oh, MJ," Helen said and patted the woman's leg. "You're more than just needed around here."

 

"Well," MJ's bottom lip wobbled again. "That's good to know..."

 

"I'm going to shower and then I have a few calls to make," Helen announced and got up. "You're more than welcome to use the shower in the ensuit. There's fresh towels in there."

 

"Sounds good..."

 

"Alright...I'll see you when you're done."

 

***

 

Freshly showered and dressed, hair dried and in a ponytail, MJ emerged almost an hour later. She had taken her time for a change, plus the shower had been nice. 

 

She found Helen at her desk, on the phone, mindlessly conducting a chess match. 

 

"Thank you, doctor."

 

That was all MJ caught of the conversation before Helen hung up. "Hey..."

 

The doctor seemed startled at her sudden appearance and it made MJ wonder what Helen didn't want her to find out. "Who was that?"

 

"That?" Helen averted her gaze coyly. "Doctor Ainsley," she said. "I booked an appointment for tomorrow."

 

"Ah," MJ commented, eyebrow lifted. "What kinda doctor is he?"

 

" _She_ is a psychiatrist."

 

"Ah."

 

Helen snorted at her then and rolled her eyes. “I told you, that wide eyed little girl routine isn't working on me."

 

Leaning onto the desk quite innocently, MJ scrunched up her nose. "I seem to remember differently."

 

"You can believe that as much as you like but if you've got something to say I suggest you spit it right out."

 

Grinning, MJ straightened. "You're going to see a psychiatrist?"

 

"Yes..." Helen answered evenly then averted her gaze and added quietly, "I want to get better."

 

MJ grinned slightly and nodded. "I'm gonna go and get some of my stuff. I'll be back in an hour or so..."

 

She could tell Helen was surprised by her response or rather lack thereof but refused to spoil it for the doctor. "I expect breakfast when I get back."

 

"Anything else?" Helen asked dryly. 

 

"Croissants...yeah, definitely croissants..."

 

***

 

"That was quick," Helen said as the door swung open. 

 

MJ had changed and packed a bag with clothes and her essentials. "Breakfast ready?" She eyed the doctor, gauging whether she had been out or not.

 

"The table is set." They went inside and MJ dropped her bag on the way. "We have toast, jam, honey, fresh coffee..."

 

"Coissants?" MJ asked very innocently.

 

"And croissants. Now, sit. I'm hungry." 

 

MJ pulled out a chair, spotting the croissants as well, and smiled to herself as Helen poured coffee into her cup. 

 

"That reminds me," the doctor said and reached into her jacket pocket. "Here. I think you should be able to come and go as you please since you'll be sharing the appartment."

 

MJ took the key. "Thanks." She reached for a croissant without making a thing out of the situation. "It's still warm..." She cooed. "Where's the butter?"

 

"Here..."

 

MJ knew Helen was watching her as she spread entirely too much of the stuff onto her croissant but refused to feel embarrassed about it. She loved butter and fried things and a good burger, so what? Reuben had always tried to get her to appreciate prawn tempura and all that nonsense but it was too late for her to change. 

 

She was a creature of habit, perhaps more so than Helen, even. "I gotta call a few people, let 'em know I'm staying here, if that's okay?"

 

"Of course."

 

"And then I've got to get down to the station."

 

"The police station?"

 

Helen sounded slightly alarmed at that. "Yeah, they want me to sign something. Hey, did you get the newspaper? Quinn said something about an article..."

 

"Uh...." Helen looked around then seemed to remember where she had left it and wandered into the living room. She returned with the newspaper and dropped it onto the table, finally starting on her own croissant. "I haven't read it yet, so no messing up the order."

 

Rolling her eyes, MJ unfolded the paper and leafed through it. 

 

Then there it was. "I can't believe they used that picture." She visibly slumped. "That's from last year's fundraiser...I hadn't slept for two days."

 

Helen snorted, obviously amused.

 

"You look good though." She turned the page towards Helen who immediately scoffed.

 

"That picture is at least three years old!" She screeched and batted at the newspaper, not wanting to look.

 

"Well, you've not been out in how long? So, unless they sit right out there with a lense the size of Texas I don't see how they can get a newer one."

 

"What are they saying?"

 

"The usual crap." MJ made to fold the paper but Helen snatched it out of her hands.

 

"Let me see that," the doctor said and began to read, her round glasses perched on her nose. 

 

MJ groaned and ate her croissant - she really could do without all the attention. Most of it was made up, especially whatever The Mouth was saying on TV. It was all one big exaggeration. 

 

"Wait a minute," Helen said, lowering the paper to shoot a glare at the other woman and read, "'Inspector Monahan, who will receive the Gold Medal of Valour next week, the highest accolade...' MJ! Why didn't you say anything?"

 

The inspector stared at her plate, rubbing her temple. "Because it's all bull. They're only giving that thing to me because of the media coverage, because I'm a woman--"

 

"Now that," Helen interrupted. "That is a load of bullshit." She tossed the paper onto the table, glasses on top and reached for MJ's hand. "They're giving it to you because you deserve recognition for what you've done."

 

"I was just doing my job."

 

"Above and beyond the call of duty." Helen emphasized her point by squeezing MJ's hand.

 

"I ran in there without any backup, screwed it up, got shot, nearly got you killed--"

 

"MJ!"

 

"What?" 

 

"You saved my life, you idiot. As far as I'm concerned, you did everything right. You're a goddamn hero."

 

"I'm not a hero, Helen, I'm not."

 

Helen gripped her hand again, tighter this time and reached for her cheek, cupping it. MJ narrowed her eyes, no one had touched her since, she realized, not since she had left the hospital, as if they were all afraid she would break. But Helen, she wasn't afraid at all, a blessing, perhaps.

 

"You're my hero...at least try to remember that when they give you that medal." The hand on her cheek retreated, leaving a lingering warmth. "I'm very proud of you, Mary Jane. You deserve this."

 

MJ didn't know what to say - she had no idea Helen felt that way. She would make nice with the Mayor and the Chief of Police just this once then. "If I have to go to this shindig, so do you. You can be my plus one."

 

 

*****

 


	5. Tomorrow

 

 

MJ had gone to bed hours ago yet Helen was still awake. 

 

"Gotcha," she murmured to herself, predicting the victorious outcome of her chess match.

 

The truth was, and Helen felt terribly embarrassed by it, she really craved a drink. Anything, really. It made her heart pound and the anxiety was nearly too much without at least a valium. The fact that she hadn't just merely turned into an eccentric crank but a full blown alcoholic and pill popper was more than a little unsettling.

 

Quite frankly, Helen was angry with herself, for letting it get that bad, especially since she knew better - she had all the certificates and degrees to prove it. 

 

But then again, a doctor treating themselves had an idiot as a patient.

 

Now though, with things as they were and no one to thank for it other than herself, Helen was determined to start over. She would get sober, see her psychiatrist twice a week and start living again. 

 

Somehow though she didn't think there were enough chess matches in the world to distract her from the cold sweats and shaky hands. 

 

Taking off her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose, Helen decided to screw this whole thing and have another cup of coffee. In the kitchen she stood in front of the coffee maker, watching it brew drop for drop. 

 

"No!"

 

Helen's head shot up, her gaze firmly in the direction of MJ's room, listening.

 

"Stop..."

 

Helen nearly tripped over her own feet as she ran to MJ's room and burst through the door. The inspector was twisted up in her sheets, her face contorted. 

 

"MJ?" Helen pulled at the sheets, untangling. "It's okay, it's okay..."

 

"...get off me."

 

"MJ, wake up!" Helen reached out, holding the woman down as she began to flail and kick; her skin was clammy. "It's okay now. Wake up, MJ."

 

"Let me go!"

 

"Mary Jane, stop!" 

 

The inspector awoke with a start, trying to ward off the hands that seemed to grip her. 

 

"MJ? You had a nightmare..."

 

The smaller woman breathed heavily, flopping back onto the mattress like a lifeless doll. "Fuck." Her eyes found Helen's fear stricken gaze. "I'm okay."

 

"Are you sure?" She asked, her voice laced with concern and empathy.

 

"Yeah..." MJ just stared at the ceiling for a while, calming her breathing and Helen made sure she hadn't torn her stitches. "I'm okay now..."

 

"Wanna talk about it?"

 

The inspector shook her head.

 

"I'll stay until you've gone back to sleep, alright?"

 

To her surprise, MJ didn't protest at all, she merely closed her eyes against the tears threatening to fall. Helen wiped them away and let her fingertips run along MJ's eyebrow then combed the damp hair until MJ relaxed. 

 

Helen didn't know how long she sat there, one hand in MJ's, the other tracing her friend's features. She was utterly beautiful. Truly, Helen thought. 

 

Beautiful...all over, and inside out. 

 

That's when she knew, without a single shred of doubt, that she was falling in love.

 

Helen's hand shot up to cover her own lips and contain that agonizing, painful sob that threatened to rip its way out of her body. She could only stare with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her heart convulsed in what she knew was romantic affection

 

Helen had been in love before, not many times, but love had always seemed to leave her.

 

They had always left - she was a pedantic, dominant and mostly unavailable bitch. 

 

Cowards, all of them. 

 

But now? She felt something soft inside, something delicate laced with happiness and tears.

 

How did this happen?

 

And when?

 

She stared, still, and reached for MJ's face. 

 

Was this real or merely a by-product of the horrific experiences of her past?

 

Not a woman, Helen thought, never a woman before. 

 

Christ, she thought, leave it to me...

 

Inhaling a deep, calming breath, Helen decided to mull this one over another day - maybe tomorrow, maybe never.

 

 

*****


	6. Failure To Appear

 

 

Helen accepted the glass of champagne without thought and thanked the waitress. 

 

She was getting better at this, for sure. Even her psychiatrist had said so. The very first time, when MJ had dropped her off, and Helen had felt her anxiety nearly spilling over, she had thought that there was no hope.

 

It had only been a week, but hey, here she was. 

 

They had given MJ her medal today. She had looked very dapper in her uniform and Helen felt immensely proud to be her friend. She had talked to the Chief, even, he seemed nice enough, Helen thought and scanned the room.

 

MJ was in conversation with Lieutenant Quinn. He looked like such a scruffian, even in his uniform, and Helen found him strangely amusing to the point of carrying a certain sympathy for him. He was a nice man. And he liked MJ a lot.

 

The woman in question spotted her then and smiled, excusing herself. "There you are," she said, clearly enthused. "What did you think of my speech."

 

"Short and sweet," Helen replied. "Congratulations."

 

"Thanks," MJ said and took the glass of champagne right out of her hands...and left it on a table. "Walk with me?"

 

Helen, amused somehow, nodded and let MJ hold onto her arm. "I wasn't going to drink it, you know?"

 

"I know," MJ said coyly, grinning. 

 

"Where are we going?"

 

"Shhhh...we're sneaking out."

 

"Are we?"

 

MJ chuckled beside her, "Hell, yeah."

 

They made it outside quite inconspicuously and to MJ's car. 

 

"So, where are we going?" Helen asked after a few minutes upon realizing that this wasn't the way home.

 

"We're nearly there." MJ sounded much too nonchalant. She was up to no good, Helen could tell.

 

"Where is there?"

 

"You'll have to wait and see..."

 

Helen rolled her eyes and stared out of the window - there was no use in engaging the inspector when she was like this and Helen would indeed just have to wait and see. 

 

As infuriating as it was. 

 

When they finally stopped, MJ with a cocky expression on her face, Helen looked around for some sort of clue. "Alright," she groused. "What are we doing in front of a church? I'm not catholic, heck, I'm not even remotely religious."

 

"You'll just have to go in and see..."

 

"In there?” Helen asked, just to make sure.

 

"In there." 

 

To say she was frustrated would have been an understatement. "Fine." She flung the car door open. "Aren't you coming?" 

 

"Nah, I'll be here when you're done."

 

"Promise?"

 

"Promise. Not going anywhere."

 

***

 

It was over an hour later when Helen finally emerged from the church and made her way down the steps. MJ was waiting, just as promised, not that Helen felt particularly inclined to see, much less talk to her. 

 

Getting in the car, Helen could tell that her friend expected a thorough talking to but honestly, Helen felt not even up to that.

 

"You tricked me," she accused sullenly. "And I'm really angry with you."

 

She looked at MJ who was biting her lip. 

 

"Here, I got you a donut," she held the pastry out to the cop. MJ took it and bit into it, chewing. 

 

"No coffee?"

 

Helen scoffed. "You're such an asshole."

 

MJ completely ignored her outburst. "So, how was it?"

 

How was it? How was it?! Helen leaned back into the seat which was only marginally more comfortable than the plastic chair she had sat on for the past hour. She remained mute. What could she possibly say?

 

"Here," MJ licked the last remnants of her donut off her fingers and took off the medal she still had around her neck. Carefully she placed it over Helen's head. "You deserve one more than me. Now, how was it?"

 

"It was...fine."

 

"Fine?"

 

Helen nodded slowly, exhausted. "I guess I'm now officially in AA."

 

 

*****

 


	7. Truth Be Told

 

 

Helen hoisted the brown paper bag higher up on her hip and unlocked the door. The smell of whatever MJ was cooking hit her immediately. She tried to discern what it was as she meandered into the kitchen. 

 

The table was laid out and a candle lit. Helen felt her heart speed up, it did that a lot lately, but she kept reminding herself, just like on any other occasion, that MJ was her friend, and more importantly, that MJ didn't feel the same. 

 

She found MJ in the kitchen, slaving over various pots and pans, her usually perfectly situated hair in somewhat of a disarray. 

 

"Hey...what's going on in here?"

 

"Special occasion dinner."

 

Helen glanced over the other woman's shoulder. "What's the occasion?" She wondered absent-mindedly. 

 

"Well," MJ said, turning around with a big smile on her face. "The stitches are coming out in two days...aaaand, come Monday, I'm back at work."

 

"Work?" Helen tried to conceal her sudden disappointment and the terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. Dread, she thought, dreadful. "Are you ready for that?"

 

"Hell, yeah! I'm on desk duty for now until my doctor clears me but it's better than nothing...just don't ever tell anyone I said that."

 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Helen plastered a smile on her face. What the hell was wrong with her?! "That's great news, MJ." She tried to mean it, she really did. "So...what's for dinner?"

 

"Lasagna. I just finished the sauce. Here, try this."

 

MJ held out a spoon to her and Helen tried the sauce. She barely tasted it, too preoccupied but smiled anyway. "It's delicious." 

 

"What did you buy?"

 

Right. Helen placed the bag down. "More coffee...someone keeps drinking it all. Oh, and I got you those apple pocket things that you like."

 

MJ's face lit up. "Thanks, Helen, you're the best! Now, listen, I'm gonna get the lasagna in the oven and just have a quick shower..."

 

"Of course. I'll--I'll be..."

 

"Are you alright?"

 

"Yes," Helen said immediately even though she was anything but. 

 

When MJ had disappeared into her room, the doctor trudged up the stairs to her own bedroom. She sat on the bed for a moment until she heard the shower downstairs. She went into the bathroom herself and opened the cabinet - it was empty, just like yesterday. 

 

Leaning her head against the cold mirror, Helen began to cry. 

 

How stupid!

 

She had to pull herself together, for MJ. 

 

Helen went through her wardrobe and picked out a nice blouse and blazer; she would at least look nice for this special occasion, she even dabbed on a drop of her favorite perfume. She fussed with her hair and she put on her best necklace. 

 

By the time she made it downstairs, MJ was placing the lasagna on the table. "Just in time."

 

Helen nodded. "Smells delicious."

 

"Thanks. C'mon, sit."

 

They dined together and Helen thoroughly enjoyed herself - she would just have to suck it up. 

 

***

 

It was much too early. 

 

MJ buried her face in the pillow, trying to discern what Helen was up to exactly. She had heard the jalousie open half an hour ago, and she was certain she had heard some sort of opera play, very quietly. 

 

About ten minutes ago, Helen had moved onto the kitchen and MJ had been left with only one option: she had pulled the blanket over her head. 

 

But then there was silence.

 

That was the worrying part. 

 

MJ remained still for a few minutes longer before she dared to look at the clock on her bedside table. 

 

5:17. 

 

She groaned into her pillow. 

 

In the end, however, MJ couldn't ignore the niggling worry that something was wrong. 

 

She threw the covers aside and sat up gingerly. Her shoulder was stiff and sore, the pain was getting less every day, but the mornings were worst.

 

It put a dampener on her mood. The disappointment at discovering that she wasn't as good as new, that there hadn't been a significant improvement. 

 

Weary and tired, MJ got up. She stepped out into the hallway, listening intently, and slowly crept into the kitchen. 

 

A chair stood facing the sink, that was all. 

 

MJ stared at it, trying to figure out what it meant. She approached it slowly, tilting her head, contemplating then stood on it. There, that was it. She certainly wasn't as tall as Helen but even she could see what was up there.

 

A whole lot of nothing.

 

Climbing down, MJ went in search for Helen. 

 

She found her in the living room on the floor, staring at the world outside. She was crying, quietly, and mumbled to herself. 

 

"Helen?" 

 

"Take it away from me."

 

MJ came closer; she smelled it before she saw it, the opened bottle sitting right in front of Helen. 

 

"I don't want it," she cried. "I just remembered I had it and then I opened it. I didn't drink it. I mean, I tasted it, okay?"

 

"Okay," MJ replied quietly and came closer, kneeling down gingerly next to Helen. 

 

"I shouldn't have opened it...I shouldn't have." The doctor wiped her nose on the sleeve of her cardigan and sniveled. "So stupid."

 

The inspector nodded and took the bottle, replacing the cork. 

 

"I'm such an idiot. I should've poured it down the sink."

 

MJ sighed and leaned against her friend, opting for silent support, then she studied her profile, tear streaks and all. "What happened last night?"

 

Helen turned toward her, eyes wide. "Nothing happened."

 

"What happened when you were out yesterday?"

 

"Nothing happened!" 

 

"Helen..." MJ sing-songed. 

 

"I don't wanna talk about it." The doctor grabbed the bottle, got up and stalked off. MJ followed her, more determined than before to uncover what was bothering her friend. 

 

She knew it wouldn't be easy to coax it out of her but MJ wasn't about to give up, she owed Helen as much. 

 

"Talk to me. What's happening?"

 

Helen proceeded to empty the bottle into the sink, the stench of whiskey fumigating the apartment. "I'm such an asshole." The doctor lamented. "It's stupid and selfish."

 

"What is?"

 

The bottle clattered into the sink as Helen turned around, looking quite angry, looking quite pitiful. "I was worried that when you went back to work, that you'd leave. But I should've been happy for you because this is what you've wanted, isn't it?" 

 

"Helen...you're not making any sense."

 

"I know, I know...I just feel like such a selfish asshole!"

 

"Helen," MJ rubbed her temple. "I'm not gonna leave."

 

"I know...I know that. I just want you to understand that you don't have to stay."

 

"I never had to," MJ said, feeling a headache coming on. "I wanted to."

 

"Well," Helen said evenly. "I'm beginning to get that." 

 

MJ smiled at the state her friend was in, although it wasn't funny, really, but the whole thing, as ridiculous as it was, made perfect sense now. Closing the distance, MJ wrapped her arms around Helen's tall form and held her tightly. 

 

She admired this woman, truly, she hadn't ever lied about that, and she hoped she could somehow make Helen see that. 

 

Make her see that she was brilliant.

 

"It was life or death," Helen said suddenly. "And I chose life. And now I don't know what to do with it." 

 

"Neither do I," MJ said lightly, and that was the truth. “We’ll just have to figure it out as we go along.”

 

 

*****


	8. Back To The Beginning

 

 

Yesterday, MJ had gone out for a run. She had been gone for nearly an hour and when she had returned, huffing and puffing, she wore a victorious smile.

 

'I went all over the marina. First one side then the other.'

 

Her fringe had been stuck to her forehead, her chest straining against the tank top she had been wearing, and the tank top itself...well...

 

Helen had never looked at another woman like that before but now that she had started, she barely managed to tear her eyes away. 

 

And when MJ drank a large glass of water by the sink, Helen's gaze glued to one tiny bead of sweat gathered at her delicate collar bone, she was certain she had gone completely soft in the head. 

 

Helen knew she had blushed terribly, especially after she had made yet another emarrassing discovery; women's sweat, or perhaps just MJ's, as it glistened on her skin, smelled, well, somewhat arousing. 

 

When MJ had left for the shower, demanding bacon and whatnot, Helen had groaned. 

 

Today however, when MJ emerged from her bedroom wearing a reddish brown blazer and a white blouse, Helen wanted to cry. She had her shield clipped to her pants and her holster attached, complete with gun - MJ was ready to roll, even though she was merely manning the desk.

 

"How do I look?"

 

"Very smart," Helen said and smiled. "Breakfast?"

 

"Nah, just coffee..."

 

"I see you're right back to your old tricks." 

 

"Well...old habits are hard to shake." MJ grabbed a cup and drank, almost in a hurry. "I'll be back tonight."

 

Helen knew the smaller woman was saying it purely for her benefit. "I know. I'll get dinner, alright?"

 

"Great. Have some fun with Doctor Ainsley for me..."

 

"She does not have an opinion on you, and she does not dislike you."

 

"Whatever you say, doc. Now, wish me luck!"

 

Helen smiled gently as MJ opened the front door, ready to go. "Good luck...and be careful!"

 

"A paper cut's the worst that can happen, trust me...see you later, Helen."

 

***

 

She listed to the police scanner for the first time in weeks while getting ready. She hoped she would catch MJ's voice but, of course, she didn't. 

 

A 187 at a convenience store. Suspected robbery. An assault with a deadly weapon. Same old. 

 

When Helen was ready to leave for her appointment, this time without MJ, she hesitated at the front door. She had made it her mission not to ever let the inspector witness this particular spectacle. Nodding to herself, Helen opened the door and stepped out backwards.

 

It was the quickest way, she had discovered that a few weeks back, and locked the door immediately. Taking a minute to catch her breath, forehead resting against the door, and eyes clenched shut, Helen decided that today she would talk to Ainsley about MJ.

 

Feeling a bit more composed, Helen turned around, facing her fears. All she had to do was let go of the door handle, let go and start walking. 

 

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."

 

She let go and took a step, and then another until she found herself outside. 

 

It was the funniest thing because it was quite illogical but the further away she got, the better she began to feel. 

 

She took the bus, not a cab this time, but only because they had researched her trek down to the tiniest detail; they had driven the route and taken the bus twice. 

 

Helen felt relieved though as she got off the bus at her stop and knew that it was going to take her exactly six minutes to walk to Dr. Ainsley's office, that she had to ride the elevator up to the fourth floor and that the personal assistant was called Ryan.

 

"Good morning, Doctor Hudson. You by yourself today?"

 

"I am indeed," she replied. 

 

"Take a seat, I'll let Doctor Ainsley know you're here."

 

Helen gave him a smile. "Thank you, Ryan." He had such a crush on her, the poor thing. Little did he know that she carried a torch for the wee inspector. Besides, he was just a boy, wasn't he? 

 

"She's ready for you now."

 

Nodding, Helen made for the door and stepped into the office. Dr. Ainsley was arranging papers on her desk, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. 

 

"Helen, good morning." She took off her Chanel glasses and came out from behind her desk, hand stretched out towards Helen. 

 

"Morning." 

 

Margo had always been a very friendly person, the kind that everyone seemed to gravitate towards. 

 

"Take a seat. Would you like some coffee? Tea?" 

 

"Tea sounds great. Thank you." Helen sat on the sofa next to the big windows. The view was nice, she had always thought so. 

 

"How did it go this morning?" Margo asked over her tea preparations.

 

Helen contemplated her feelings as she stared out the windows, how MJ had left for work in her 'professional gear'. She always looked nice but never too nice. Young, awfully young. It made her think of Ryan, he was barely 25, if that, and it made her wonder: how old was MJ? 

 

It had never occured to her before that the inspector was a mere baby herself. 

 

"Better than I expected," Helen said finally. 

 

"You were in a completely different frame of mind when we talked last week."

 

"You mean that ridiculous tantrum I threw because I thought MJ would up and leave and I'd die alone, hugging a bottle? That frame of mind?"

 

Margo smirked, carrying two cups. "That one."

 

"I got over it," Helen said quite matter-of-fact. "MJ isn't leaving and I'm not gonna die." She sipped the tea delicately, enjoying its flavor. "...at least not yet."

 

Margo gave her a small, encouraging smile as she sat down in the armchair, balancing a notepad on her knee. "Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today?"

 

Helen took a deep breath and gazed at the world outside once more. She gathered her courage and nodded - Margo wouldn't judge. "I'd like to talk about my feelings towards MJ."

 

If Margo was surprised, she didn't show it; she probably knew. She was very infuriatingly clever and terribly frustrating, especially when she made you spell it out. "Feelings?"

 

Helen rolled her eyes. "Romantic feelings."

 

"Ah." Margo crossed her legs. "Go on, what's the low down."

 

"Well, what's there to say? I just wanted to say it out loud and for someone else to hear it..."

 

"I understand." 

 

Helen nodded; she knew Margo would get it. 

 

"Do you doubt the authenticity of your feelings? That perhaps they are a mere fabrication?"

 

"I did give that some thought," Helen admitted. 

 

"You once said that you felt a dependendcy there, to MJ...is that still accurate?"

 

Helen abandoned one thought and focused on another - this was hard work. "No." No, definitely. "I've come to realize that this...arrangement...isn't just for my benefit. I thought that MJ stayed out of some misguided sense of duty, that she felt bad for me."

 

Staring out again at the familiar buildings, a vision she had memorized down to every frustratingly small detail, Helen shook her head. 

 

"Is that why you were upset last week? Because you thought you had given MJ a purpose, to care for you and that, once she returned to work, you would become obsolete."

 

"That pretty much sums it up," Helen grumped, unhappy with her transparency. "But I know now that that isn't the case."

 

"How so?"

 

"She wants to be there...and she needs me just as much as I need her. I'm helping her..." Helen had felt quite elated at that discovery. "MJ is having nightmares. At first she wouldn't talk about them but now she has confided in me. Last night...I knew she was nervous about going back and we watched a movie together and she said that she was glad she wasn't alone, that she could share the load with someone."

 

Helen smiled at the memory. "She said I was her crutch. That she had always dealt with things on her own before...but that relying on someone else wasn't so bad."

 

Margo smiled as well and made a note. "So, you're mutual crutches now. How do you feel about relying on someone else, leaning on them for support?"

 

"I had Andy before," Helen said immediately. "...but I guess that was different."

 

"It was." Margo confirmed then fell silent for a moment. "So, now you have feelings for MJ."

 

"I do..."

 

"You don't seem very happy about it?"

 

Helen snorted - way to state the obvious. "No."

 

"Why is that?"

 

"Because I finally found a friend that I can be myself with, that I trust, and what do I do? I fall in love with them."

 

"Isn't that the recipe for a great relationship?"

 

Helen snorted; she knew she was surprising Margo with her apruptness but she neither had the time nor the patience for bullshit. "Let's not get all disillusioned over this. MJ doesn't return my feelings, and she never will."

 

Margo seemed to contemplate her words with earnesty, a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes that Helen could do without, quite frankly. 

 

"Have you thought about telling her?"

 

"No," Helen admitted and reached for a tissue. "There's no point."

 

Margo shrugged and took a deep breath, her next words spoken very carefully. "Hope is powerful...but it can also be very debilitating."

 

"I know that," Helen said angrily, wiping her eyes. "So you're suggesting that I should tell MJ how I feel and get rejected to make myself fall out of love with her? That's just ridiculous!"

 

Margo shrugged and gazed out at the world herself, mistful. "Perhaps it'll help you stop romanticizing Inspector Monahan..."

 

"I'm not romanticizing her. And 'Inspector Monahan'? Really?"

 

Margo chuckled. "You keep me on my toes..."

 

"I sure do..." Releasing a cleansing breath, Helen picked up her tea then Margo spoke again, quietly.

 

"How does it feel to be in love?"

 

How did it feel? Helen hadn't thought of that before. Her mind immediately wandered back to yesterday morning, when MJ had burst through the door all sweat and lean muscle. Helen grinned almost ruefully. "Arousing...exciting..." 

 

And watching that movie, shoulders touching and stealing that intimate glance at MJ when she burst out laughing. 

 

"Happy."

 

"Happy?"

 

Blushing, Helen grabbed a pillow and hugged it to herself protectively; being happy was something so alien to her, it nearly scared her. 

 

"Maybe," Margo began tentatively. "Maybe you should enjoy that for a little while longer...what do you think?"

 

***

 

A lot had changed in the weeks she hadn't been at work, MJ thought as she gathered more things than she probably needed and stuffed them in a duffle bag. 

 

They had stopped laying down flowers for Reuben for instance and instead had put up a plaque. He was now one of the fallen officers, killed in the line of duty, third row down. 

 

It had upset her a little bit. 

 

Her desk however was nearly buckling under the weight of the paperwork deposited on it, carelessly tossed, one file on top of the other. 

 

They had thought to get a balloon and a welcome back card. Everyone had signed the attrociously pink cardboard. 

 

And a whole box of donuts...with one missing, for Reuben. 

 

As she had finally sat down, because her colleagues had been called out while she had been left to hold the fort, MJ had stared at Reuben's desk. It had been cleared out, the picture of his mother was gone. They had always made fun of him for that: mama's boy. 

 

Nico still wasn't back. His desk was cluttered with his crap, untouched. He had made a terrible mistake. 

 

"Monahan!"

 

MJ shot out of her chair and suppressed a smile. "Lieutenant."

 

"Good to have you back," he said. "Now get to work."

 

It was late when she had left for her apartment, unneccesarily so. The stacks would still be there tomorrow. Her apartment seemed very quiet, and very empty without Helen there. 

 

She couldn't wait to tell her all about her day. About the stupid card and that ridiculous balloon. MJ had honestly expected more, at least one practical joke but everyone had seemed more sedate...after all that had happened. 

 

She made her way accross town, worrying her bottom lip all the way to Helen's apartment. It was getting late, perhaps she should have called. 

 

Sticking her key in the lock and opening the front door, MJ felt a huge sense of relief at being home. She had made it through the day even though it had been worse than she had expected. "MJ?"

 

"Yeah..." She dropped her bag on the floor and shrugged out of her jacket tiredly. Helen was sitting on the sofa, taking off one of her many pairs of glasses. 

 

"How was it?"

 

How was it? MJ had no answer and so she just shrugged and unclipped her gun and badge. 

Dropping both onto the coffee table, MJ slumped onto the sofa, next to Helen whose gaze she felt nearly penetrating her. 

 

She knew the doctor didn't like guns; apparently she knew how to shoot one, but that was beside the point. 

 

"That bad?" 

 

MJ detected the genuine worry in Helen's voice, the disappointment on her behalf, and turned to look at the woman. 

 

And then, to her utter horror, she just burst into tears like a little girl. 

 

Helen gathered her in her arms and rubbed her back as the tears seemed to just stream from her eyes and soak into Helen's blouse. MJ buried her face into Helen's neck, hiding, and embarrassed by her emotional outburst but Helen wouldn't think less of her. 

 

That knowledge gave the inspector at least some comfort, albeit small and so she took a page out of Helen's book and just didn't give a shit about how pathetic she must look.

 

"They cleared out Reuben's desk--I knew they would want--I mean, they were gonna replace him, but I just wasn't ready for it. So stupid. I should've thought of that--"

 

"MJ..." Helen cooed gently. 

 

"No, no...it's fine." The inspector drew back, her tears momentarily at bay. "I knew what to expect but I just didn't think it would upset me, is all."

 

"Believe me, I understand."

 

Nodding, MJ patted Helen's knee. "I know you do." Sighing and composing herself somewhat, MJ wiped at her eyes, pulling herself together. "So...what's for dinner?"

 

Helen gave her a strange look, one of mischieve. "Cheeseburgers."

 

MJ's face fell in surprise. "You shittin' me?"

 

"Nope."

 

"I love you. Now, where are they?" MJ went for the kitchen, Helen right behind her. "Burger first, then you can tell me all about what Ainsley said."

 

"Very funny," Helen droned behind her. "She still thinks we should't live together."

 

"I told you," MJ said. "I'm not leaving. Not until you're better." Of course she knew that these thinga could take months, if not years, and she also knew Helen was deliberately not saying anything, which suited MJ just fine. 

 

She liked it here. Here she had nice coffee and cheeseburgers and Helen.

 

Who gave a shit about Ainsley?

 

 

*****

 


	9. Prodigy

 

 

Helen unlocked the door. It was late and the trek back to her apartment had exhausted her, mentally and physically. That she had encountered a dark alley with, ironically, a cat forraging through the dumpsters hadn't helped. 

 

MJ's car was parked out front so dinner was on, a small consolation, really. 

 

"I'm back," she called out yet received no answer as MJ was hunched over her desk.

 

"How was the meeting?" The inspector asked her eventually. 

 

"Exhausting," Helen grumped; she felt particularly moody tonight. "I got a sponsor now."

 

"Who is it?"

 

"Thomas," she said and took off her jacket. 

 

"What's wrong with Thomas?"

 

"Nothing...I just didn't think I needed one...a sponsor." She glanced over MJ's shoulder and frowned. "I told you not to bring these here anymore."

 

"I had them in my room," MJ screeched. "But I'm getting to learn the computer and it's been helping me figure a couple things out." The inspector closed the files and stacked. "Besides, you wanted dinner so I had to bring work home."

 

"Ugh." Helen avoided the argument and trudged towards the kitchen. "Where is dinner?"

 

"In the oven." MJ didn't seem very happy with her attitude, understandably. "I thought maybe you can have a look, too."

 

"Me? MJ, I can't."

 

"You wouldn't believe how many unsolved murders come across my desk. No one's looking into it 'cause we don't have the manpower, and all these victims just end up forgotten and filed away."

 

Helen stopped in the living room, toeing off her shoes. "I know all that--"

 

"Then help me. One little look won't hurt."

 

Helen scoffed, trying to calm herself down and stared at the ceiling. "It's never just one little look though, is it?"

 

"Pretty please?"

 

The truth was, Helen really couldn't say no even though she desperately wanted to. "Okay..." She relented. "I'll give it until dinner is ready but that's it."

 

"Of course," MJ agreed and hauled the stack of files off the desk and placed them on the coffee table. "Here are your glasses...and a pen. And your notepad."

 

Helen lifted her eyebrows and put her glasses on. "I don't want you watching me."

 

"Got it."

 

"And you really need to take a shower...you smell of cigarettes."

 

MJ sniffed her blouse and nodded.

 

"Lieutenant Quinn, I know..."

 

The inspector gave her one last bright smile and dashed off into her bedroom. 

 

Helen shook her head, bemused and grabbed the first file. Robbery/homicide. Her eyes scanned the pictures. The body laid, face down, behind the counter, a pool of blood framing the torso.

 

Case notes were sparse, too many unknown prints to point to anyone in particular. 

 

She made her way through half the stack, acutely aware of the fact that MJ was loitering around the corner. She organized the piles - the dead ends, the possibles, and the ones for later...even though she had said no more after they had eaten.

 

"Dinner's ready..."

 

"Just a second." She opened one more file, skimming the police report. It was one of Nico's old cases; murder of a prostitute. There wasn't much to go on. 

 

The poor girl had been tied to her bed, raped and strangled

 

MJ was right - these people didn't deserve to be shelved and forgotten about.

 

Helen could just about curse her for getting her into this yet again. There was a good reason for her retirement, and it wasn't the mere fact that she was an utter loon. 

 

"Are you coming? I made a casserole..."

 

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." 

 

"So," MJ began nonchalantly as they sat down for dinner. "What did you find?"

 

Helen glared across the table. "Can we discuss this later?"

 

"Sure." 

 

She could tell MJ was itching to ask more questions but kept herself very well contained. She would have to, dinner was a crime free zone. 

 

"That Thomas guy...he any good?"

 

Helen nodded tucking into her food. "He's quite bland, really. He's been sober for eight years."

 

"That's good!"

 

"It is. He said I'm going to get my one month chip next week." MJ seemed pleased to hear it, so Helen kept her opinion to herself - she didn't need a coin to remind herself that she hadn't had a drink in nearly four weeks because she was counting the days.

 

"I'm gettin' a new partner."

 

"You are?" That was news to Helen - also, she thought, she was pretty damn sure that MJ didn't particularly want one. "Who?"

 

"Remember that kid I was telling you about?"

 

"The coffee guy?"

 

"The coffee guy." MJ confirmed with a grimace. "He doesn't know shit about anything."

 

"Well, look at it this way: he'll be very good at coffee making."

 

"Yeah...great."

 

Feeling MJ's pain, Helen gave her friend a sympathetic smile. Reuben had been a newbie but MJ had said that he had been a very quick study. She couldn't fathom training another one up. "What's his name?"

 

"Romero...he's Puerto Rican."

 

"Romero who?"

 

"...Inspector Romero?"

 

"Seriously, you people."

 

"What?"

 

Helen shook her head, slightly bemused. "Did you hear anything about when they're letting you back out in the field?"

 

"Don't know, didn't ask."

 

The matter seemed closed. The doctor bit her lip, watching MJ's body language. There was something the inspector wasn't telling her, something she refused to talk about but before she could formulate an interrogation plan, MJ interrupted.

 

"Some guy from the FBI called," she said. 

 

"Let me guess: SSA Hammond?"

 

"That's him."

 

"He called before. What did you tell him?"

 

MJ shrugged carelessly and pushed her food around her plate. "That you'd call him back...what does he want?"

 

"They want me to look at something but I'm not going to."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because it's Ballard's leftovers that he doesn't deem relevant or deserving of his time...he's a self absorbed, pompous ass."

 

"Ballard?"

 

Helen stared at her plate with mild disgust at the mere mention of his name. "The new me. I couldn't bear to run into him, or worse pick up after him. He'd make me feel pathetic..." Helen rubbed her temple. "And I slept with him...and then he screwed me over, and the FBI didn't give a damn."

 

"Ouch..."

 

"My fault. I should've seen it coming."

 

"But maybe if he's such a pompous ass, maybe they need someone with a different perspective? You never know, Helen, they might--"

 

"MJ..." Helen was starting to loose her appetite. "No one is ever going to take me seriously again. No one is ever going to let me take the stand. I'm a crank and too big a liability."

 

The cop dropped her fork noisily and gave Helen a stern look. "You're gonna call 'em back."

 

"MJ..."

 

"Helen..."

 

The doctor picked at her food. "I'll think about it."

 

"C'mon...you're good at this thing." MJ reached across the table and took her hand. "It would be a damn shame to let this talent of yours go to waste, that's alll I'm sayin'."

 

"Okay," Helen said and mulled that over. She was good at this, hell, she was damn good at this. The best. Certainly more competend than David Ballard. She had worked hard to get to where she had been...before Daryl Lee Cullum. 

 

He had taken everything from her...everything. 

 

"I'll think about it, promise."

 

"That's all I'm askin'."

 

Helen smiled - somehow MJ managed to get her to do all sorts of things...because they both knew she would call eventually. 

 

"What's the verdict on the casserole?"

 

Helen looked across the table at MJ's expectant face and giggled. "It's wonderful, Mary Jane." Her MJ was a great cook, exceptional even, wrong career choice and all. 

 

After dinner and the obligatory dishwasher loading, Helen found herself practically dragged into the living room. 

 

"What did you find? You found something, didn't you?"

 

Helen reached for one of the files and opened it up. "Robbery/homicide?"

 

"Yeah..."

 

"Okay...what's this, right there, behind the counter?"

 

"Looks like some cardboard boxes."

 

"That's what I thought. It states in the report that the store received a delivery at 6:30 that morning."

 

"Right. They checked out the delivery guy, he was clean and the TOD doesn't add up."

 

"That's right," Helen held up another picture. "They checked the cash register..."

 

"Cash is gone."

 

"Did they check the receipts?"

 

"No one in around the time of death."

 

"Then why is there a Mars bar missing?"

 

"What?" MJ snatched the photo out of her hands and squinted at it. "I'll be damned." Lowering the picture, MJ's gaze connected with her's. "I see where you're going with this. Store gets a delivery. Guy starts stacking the shelves, fills up the candy bars at the counter. Robber comes in, shoots the guy, empties the register and, on his way out, grabs a Mars bar." The inspector sighed. "We can't arrest everyone seen eating a Mars bar last week..."

 

"No, you can't...but there's a school just two blocks up the road. I'd start there."

 

"You think it was a kid?"

 

"See all of these shoe prints? They’re all over the place."

 

"Coulda been a junky."

 

"Would a junky wear brand new Nike sneakers?"

 

MJ bit her lip. "It's worth a shot..."

 

"Now, what about this one?"

 

 

*****


	10. Acquaintances

 

 

"Morning..."

 

Helen glanced over her shoulder at what appeared to be a sleepwalking zombie. "Good morning." The zombie went straight for the coffee machine and poured a big cup. "You got in late..."

 

"Yeah." MJ's voice was still rough from sleep, her eyes bleary and her complexion pale. "I had a thing...at work."

 

"What kinda thing?"

 

"Gangs...we were busy booking them all."

 

Ah, Helen thought and kept on watching the bleary eyed inspector. "You look like shit."

 

"Thanks...I didn't eat. I had this burger and this wannabe thug, he just spat on it. And then we mixed one up, and one of these idiots got in the wrong cell. They beat him up pretty good. And then...I was watching the guy 'til four in the morning, at the hospital."

 

"Sounds exhausting."

 

"I just don't get why he spat on my burger. Asshole."

 

"I'm sorry, MJ..." Helen looked on as the small woman pulled out one of the stools that no one ever used and climbed on it, practically laying down on the kitchen counter. "Would you like some breakfast?"

 

"Nah," MJ whispered, closing her eyes.

 

"Would you like to go back to bed?"

 

The inspector's eyes opened slowly and studied her face. "Shoulder hurts."

 

"Let me have a look at it...just humor me, please." The doctor helped MJ up into a sitting position and pulled the strap of her tanktop down to expose the newly formed scar. "It looks fine..."

 

"Doesn't feel it though..."

 

"I hope you didn't over exert yourself last night," thats's probably exactly what happened, Helen thought as she massaged the stiff muscle. 

 

"That feels good."

 

"What did you do last night? You're in a terrible state..."

 

"I know, I know..."

 

Massaging carefully, Helen felt bad for what she had planned tonight. "Hal called."

 

"Hal?"

 

"Andy's friend. I invited him to dinner tonight...and I might have offered your cooking skills."

 

"Okay..."

 

"If you're not up to it, I can cancel."

 

"Okay..."

 

Stopping her ministrations, Helen glared at MJ's slack features. "Are you even listening?"

 

"I was listening...when is he coming?"

 

"Seven," Helen answered contritely. "And he's bringing his boyfriend."

 

"Okay."

 

"Okay?"

 

"Yeah," MJ shrugged. "I'll go have a shower and think about what to cook tonight."

 

"Hey," Helen protested. "I'm good at entertaining! You don't have to be the martyr!"

 

"Really?" She saw MJ in the doorway to her bedroom, cocky and all. "When was the last time you had people over?"

 

"I keep you entertained, don't I?" Two could play this game. "Also, I can actually pronounce whatever you're cooking." Helen lifted her eyebrows. "You draaaaawl over everything."

 

"Well, tonight," the inspector put it on thick. "I'm gonna have everyone droolin'. Be right back...in two shakes."

 

"What? Bright eyed and bushy tailed?"

 

MJ winked at her, turned and pulled the tank top over her head. 

 

This was killing her, Helen decided, absolutely killing her. As time went on, the doctor began to imagine all those horrible endings - their friendship in ruins, a broken heart, maybe MJ would find someone else which wasn't at all unlikely considering how pretty she was and how smart and witty and funny.

 

Who wouldn't want to be with her? 

 

Helen hoped it wouldn't happen soon, if someone else came along now, she'd truly die. She was too in love. Maybe once MJ had moved out. That would do. 

 

***

 

The doorbell rang. MJ listened out for Helen's footsteps across the hardwood floor then the cheerful greeting of an old friend.

 

MJ had found herself excited at the prospect of having guests; she hadnt expected Helen to be the invitee but it had proven to be a pleasant surprise. 

 

It was a clear sign - Helen was getting better. 

 

"Mary Jane!" And she really wished Helen wouldn't call her that! "Our guests are here!" 

 

Wiping her hands on a towel, MJ emerged from the kitchen with a big smile on her face. 

 

"MJ, you remember Hal?"

 

"Course."

 

"It's nice to see you again, Inspector."

 

"Just plain MJ will do...unless I'm arresting you for lewd behavior, then it's Inspector Monahan."

 

Hal snorted as they shook hand. "This is Sal."

 

"Salvador, actually." His boyfriend was about ten years old and awfully good looking. "He thinks it's funny to call us Hal and Sal," he said with a thick accent. 

 

"Nice to meet you," MJ glanced at Helen - she was doing just fine.

 

"You're the artist! I read about you in the paper last week," Helen said.

 

"That's me. Hal and I met when he was helping me with one of my video installations for the exhibition...you should come by and see it."

 

"I'd love to!" 

 

MJ had to suppress a smile at Helen's overly enthusiastic display. "I better check on the food."

 

"Yes. And I'll get the wine," Helen said and MJ only then realized she was holding a bottle of red. "Make yourselves at home. Hal? You remember where everything is?"

 

"I sure do...and don't go easy on the wine, we took a cab."

 

Chasing after Helen into the kitchen, MJ felt her stomach drop as the doctor took out four glasses and opened the bottle. She poured three, to MJ's relief, but the matter still didn't sit right with the Inspector. "I don't want any," she said before she could stop herself.

 

"Of course you are." Helen seemed insistent. "You are having a glass or else I'll get nicknamed the Party Bore and we won't get invited anywhere."

 

"What?"

 

Helen practically forced the glass into her hand. "Just because I'm not drinking doesn't mean that no one else can. Please? Just do me this one little favor and get drunk tonight."

 

MJ snorted and looked into the dark red depths of her glass. "I don't think anyone's ever said anything like that to me before." She looked up into Helen's bemused eyes. "As long as you're sure..."

 

"MJ, I appreciate what you're trying to do, it's very sweet of you, but not at all necessary. Besides, I bought more, so you better keep up with these guys..."

 

"I have a feeling they'll drink about a gallon of this stuff..."

 

"A gallon?" Helen said from the doorway. "Try two!"

 

***

 

"And there he was," MJ said, "with this giant pumpkin on his head. We booked him as Cinderella Doe. Reuben tried to talk to him but he had his face on backward so Reuben talked to the back of his head. He was on about the devil trying to blind him, so he put the pumpkin on, to ward off evil spirits and Reuben goes: dude, you've got no eyes under that thing. And Cinderella just loses it and starts banging his giant pumpkin head on the table. We try to restrain him and he runs off, blind as a bat, straight into the glass door.

 

"Pumpkin everywhere and blood just spurting out of the guy's nose, all over the place and he goes: I'm fine, it's fake, I went as Jack the Ripper. And then he passes out. So he's laying there on the floor and I look straight at him and realize he's the guy we'd been looking for all night. The blood on him was real and the dog had bitten off half his ear."

 

Hal laughed deliriously.

 

"He breaks into that house, wanting to kill that lady but falls down the stairs, gets in a fistfight with the dog, runs out the front door, grabs a pumpkin, cause surely the cops are stupid, obvisously he's out trick or treating. He then tries to chat up some teenagers who think he's a perv and beat the crap out of him. That's when we roll up and arrest the guy, pissed off we're left to deal with Cinderella while everyone else is looking for this homicidal maniac only to realize later that we had him all along."

 

"That's your most famous case?" Helen asked incredulously. 

 

"It sure is the most infamous one...everyone knows about it."

 

Helen laughed. 

 

"I've always wanted a southern boyfriend," Hal swooned, changing the topic.

 

"Well, you've got me. Your amazing latino lover..."

 

"I just sound like a yankee. I'm from New York." Hal picked up his glass - number six, was it? "Say something southern."

 

"Like what?" MJ played along.

 

"Sexy, isn't it?" Hal gushed in Helen's direction.

 

"Very."

 

MJ blinked.

 

"I mean...I don't know what I mean and I'm not even drinking."

 

Hal burst out laughing - he was a very loud character, MJ thought, which probably made him so endearing. 

 

"So, Helen, you got a case to share?"

 

The doctor blinked at MJ, seemingly greatful for the change in topic. "Nothing as entertaining as yours, MJ."

 

"C'mon, you gotta have something."

 

"Yeah, c'mon, Helen," Hal egged. 

 

"I don't know..." The doctor looked down at her plate. "There's one case that I will always remember but I have to warn you, it's not very exciting...or funny."

 

"Let's hear it," Sal said.

 

"Alright. Um. It happened about four years ago. The FBI contacted me to do a psychological evaluation on a suspect they had in custody. A 17 year old boy. They thought he had killed three teenage girls up in Wyoming. They'd found...animal carcasses...badly mutilated, some of them had...human teeth marks on them. The boy was well known in his community for causing no end of trouble and he had been arrested, several times for attacking and biting his female classmates.

 

"The girls that had been killed had been covered in bite marks--"

 

"Couldn't they match 'em?" MJ interrupted.

 

"The results were inconclusive. So, no."

 

"What happened?"

 

"I evaluated him," Helen said plainly. "And determined that he wasn't the killer. He was a pathological liar with sociopathic tendencies. I filed my report and recommended he be commited to a psychiatric hospital for further treatment." 

 

"And then what?"

 

"The FBI wouldn't have it. They got David...Ballard to do another evaluation but meanwhile another body turns up. They had no choice but to let the boy go."

 

"Did they catch the real killer?" Hal asked.

 

Helen nodded. "Oh, yes. Turned out to be a teacher at the local high school."

 

"And what about the boy?" MJ wondered, leaning over the table a bit to catch every last detail.

 

"Well," Helen sighed. "Three months later he killed his mother, hacked her head off and used it for stew."

 

"Jesus Christ," Hal leaned back in his chair, disgusted.

 

"So that's why you're not calling the FBI back." MJ concluded, vividly remembering Helen's outburst at yet another message on the answering machine.

 

"They're arrogant nitwits."

 

***

 

Helen closed the door behind her guests and smiled. She felt immensely pleased with herself.

 

The evening had gone great, everyone had enjoyed themselves, even she had, without s drink at that. And MJ had been perfect, humoring Hal and Sal with with a few cop stories and her southern charm.

 

She was happy for Hal, he was a good man and deserved someone as smart and good looking as Salvador. Helen had always hoped he and Andy would get together one day, they would have been good for each other, but for that it was certainly too late.

 

With a sorrowful sigh, Helen made to clear the table; she missed it, having a relationship, having someone who always went out to dinner with you and knew which bra size to get.

 

And sex. God, she missed sex. 

 

Her thoughts immediately turned to MJ; she was the only one Helen desired to have sex with as it was. 

 

Breathing out heavily, Helen began to collect the empty bottles. 

 

For Christ's sake. She really, really, really had it bad. 

 

"Hey."

Startled, Helen nearly dropped the bottles.

 

"What are you worrying like a loose tooth?"

 

"When you say things like that, MJ, I really have a hard time following you."

 

"And here I thought my southern talk was sexy."

 

Helen glared. "Not when it involves loose teeth."

 

"So, what's goin' on?"

 

"Nothing," Helen said evenly and carried the bottles into the kitchen for recycling. "I was just thinking how much fun I had tonight...and the food was exceptional."

 

"Helen..." MJ sing-songed which more than likely meant she was in trouble. "Usually flattery would get you anywhere but I know all of your tricks and even though distracting me with compliments is quite clever, it won't get you off the hook tonight." 

 

The inspector appeared right next to her, looking at her with her big, brown eyes. Helen wanted to do nothing more than kiss her but, of course, she didn't. 

 

"Is it about the FBI thing? Cause you know what I would do? I'd waltz right in there and show 'em what I'm made of."

 

"I know you would," Helen said gently, melancholy lacing her voice. "I've fought this fight, remember? Heck, I was like you, once. Young and brave and...idealistic."

 

"How old do you think I am?" MJ screeched. "I deal with this shit all day, every day, and I don't have a pretty degree to put up on the wall and point at when someone questions my competence."

 

Helen had heard only half of that speech as she studied MJ's face with more scrutiny than was appropriate. Besides, she didn't want to get into an argument over something that wasn't even worth arguing about. Perhaps another day...but not tonight.

 

Instead she turned fully towards the inspector and asked, "How old are?"

 

"What's that got to do with the price of beans?"

 

"How old?"

 

"38."

 

Helen chuckled and rubbed her forehead. "38?" 

 

"In March."

 

And all this time...oh, for christ's sake. "You look like a baby."

 

MJ just looked at her as if she had gone mad. "I have no idea what just happened."

 

"I just thought I was..." I was falling in love with someone who had no idea what love meant. "Forget it. I feel fine now."

 

"Whatever you say, doc, whatever you say..."

 

 

*****


	11. Darwinism

 

 

"Ma'am, ma'am, are you listening to me?" MJ looked at the phone in disgust. "Nice talking to you too." Rubbing her temple, MJ leaned back in her chair. "Pach!" 

 

"What?"

 

"Can you get someone out to this address? We need to get another statement from this lunatic."

 

"She change her story again?"

 

"Yeah, for the third time."

 

"Ah," Pachulsky picked up his phone. "I don't know why we're still talking to her..."

 

Leaning her head onto her desk, MJ closed her eyes - she was having a terrible day, utterly boring and filled with pointless phone conversations. 

 

"More coffee, boss?"

 

Looking up she squinted at her new partner. "I told you to stop calling me that...and yeah, coffee."

 

Her phone rang again and MJ groaned at it with mild disdain. "Monahan."

 

"It's Bobby from reception."

 

"What's up, Bobby?"

 

"I got a visitor for you. Name's Hudson."

 

MJ sat up straight. "Bring her up. Thanks, Bobby." In an effort to make her desk appear tidier, MJ began to stack her files in some sort of order. She shoved the half eaten donut into her drawer, she never had finished that, and it wouldn't do to have Helen see it, she was on her case as it was. 

 

"Bees circling that donut or why are you running around like that?"

 

"Must be the flies attracted to your odour, Pach."

 

He howled and laughed, throwing a ball of scrunched up paper at her as she went for the door. 

 

Bobby held it open and in swept Helen in a very severe pantsuit, carrying an attaché. 

 

"Helen...thanks, Bobby." She led the doctor towards her desk, well aware of all the stares. "Everything okay?" She asked quietly. 

 

"Yes. Is there anywhere more private that we can talk?"

 

Helen's expression was quite serious and it made MJ wonder if things were truly alright. Judging from her getup, Helen had to have gone somewhere, perhaps to see Ainsley?

 

"This way." They navigated the desks towards an interrogation room. "Not a word, Pachulsky."

 

He held up his hands. 

 

Rolling her eyes, MJ opened the door for Helen and followed her inside. As the door fell shut behind them, Helen dropped her briefcase onto the table and lifted her eyebrows. "What was that about?"

 

MJ rubbed her forehead and paced the length of the room. "Nothing--um...they think we're sleeping together."

 

She studied Helen's impassive face.

 

"Really?"

 

"Um...so what brings you here?"

 

Helen sighed and opened her attaché. "I went to the FBI."

 

"What? When?"

 

"Just now. I came straight here."

 

"Okay," MJ nodded. "You went to the FBI. What did they want?"

 

"I spoke to Agent Hammond," Helen said and produced a small stack of files. "They wanted me to look at these, to see if they were connected."

 

"What are they?"

 

"Case files. Two from Phoenix and one fron San Diego. The BAU is busy in Texas."

 

"On that child obduction thing..."

 

"Yes." Helen opened a file, pictures spilling across the table. "I spent the morning going over about twenty of these...those ones, I think, are connected." 

 

MJ skimmed over the first pictures then turned her eye to the police report. "Dead prostitute...smothered in a motel room. Report states that police got a call about a disturbance that night..?"

 

"Yes," Helen nodded. "She was dead when they got there."

 

"No sexual assault?"

 

"No." 

 

MJ took the next file. "Dead prostitute in a motel room. Strangled. Ligature marks on her wrists." She studied the photos intently - the girl looked terribly young, perhaps just shy of her eighteenth birthday. She laid in an unnatural position on the floor, next to the bed. She was bare chested, her underwear twisted around her ankles. "Sexual assault, no semen."

 

"Look at this one." Helen handed her the last file, this one from San Diego. 

 

"Dead prostitute in a motel room. Strangled. Ligature marks on her wrists." The girl laid on the bed, arms above her head, face turned to the left. "She had cigarette burns across her chest?"

 

"Yes and she was raped repeatedly then strangled."

 

"Okay," MJ said slowly. "What makes you think they're connected? I'm sorry to say but there's a lotta dead working girls in a lotta motel rooms."

 

Before Helen could answer, the door flew open and Romero stuck his head in. "I got your coffee, boss."

 

"I told you to stop calling me that."

 

"Sorry, boss."

 

"For Christ's sake," MJ mumbled, that kid was hopeless. "Can you get Doctor Hudson a cup?"

 

"Doctor Hudson? You're Doctor Hudson?"

 

"Yes. And you are?"

 

"Uh...Romero...Franco. Franco Romero. Ma'am, I have read all your books."

 

"Jesus," MJ groused. 

 

"Well, if you like, give them to Inspector Monahan and I'll sign them for you."

 

"Really? I mean, thanks, Doctor Hudson. It's such an honor--"

 

"Romero! Jesus, pull yourself together, man! And get the woman some coffee!"

 

"Of course." He nearly stuttered then he proceeded to trap his jacket in the door. 

 

MJ rolled her eyes. "See what I have to deal with?"

 

"I don't know," Helen said nonchalantly. "He seems to hold you in high esteem..."

 

"Please, Helen, just shut up."

 

The doctor chuckled and sat at the table. "You were wondering why I thought these crimes are connected?"

 

"Right..." MJ sat as well, right next to Helen, and looked at the photos the doctor was lining up. "Here. The first step is to determine what we call the antecedent. What motivates the offender. Is the crime premeditated? Is there an implement to the crime that would suggest such?"

 

"And?" 

 

"The first one," Helen laid the photograph in front of them. "Why did he seek out a prostitute?"

 

"He wanted to get laid?"

 

Helen smiled. "That's right. Did he go there planning on murdering her?"

 

MJ stared, scanning the general disarray of the place. A lamp had fallen on the floor, yet nothing else had been disturbed on the beside table. The sheets had become untucked. There was blood on the corner of the bedframe where the victim had fallen. 

 

"No...something happened, she screamed and he tried to strangle her with the cord of that lamp."

 

"That's what I thought. See the marks around her mouth and nose? He probably held her from behind, covering her face with his hand and smothered her. Now look at this one. What do you see?"

 

"Seems efficient. Rape, strangle..."

 

"Restrain, rape, strangle."

 

"Right. Where are the restraints?"

 

"We'll get to that."

 

They were once again interrupted by Romero. "You working on something?"

 

"Yep," MJ responded and gave him a glare. "Can you put the engaged sign on on your way out." 

 

"Sure thing..." He slinked away, longingly eyeing the pictures on the table. 

 

"Okay...where were we?" 

 

Helen organized the crime scene pictures again. "We determined that the offender knew exactly what he was doing. Premedetating his crime by bringing..."

 

"The duct tape." MJ said. "It's in all three. A roll of duct tape."

 

"It's very specific, actually. It's waterproofing tape."

 

"Okay. So, the first one, he brings the tape to do what? Fullfill some sort of fantasy?"

 

"Precisely. He seeks out a prostitute to realize his fantasy but ends up killing her. He does it again, this time he doesn't hesitate. He knows what he wants."

 

MJ bit her lip. "They all have the same marks around their mouths and noses. They pass out, he restrains them with the tape--any prints?"

 

"On the first one that he didn't use, yes. The others were clean."

 

"Okay," MJ felt her brain swim. "He rapes them, strangles them and then...what?"

 

"You just described manner and method. What about victimology?"

 

"They're all prostitutes. Easy prey..."

 

"Is that why he chooses them or is it the fact that they are prostitutes that attracts him?"

 

The cop shook her head. "They're all young. Very young. He doesn't seem very choosy about looks."

 

"Now, body disposal." Helen said. "All of them were found in motel rooms, all of them left where they had died."

 

"Right."

 

"This is a clear pattern in itself. What about postoffense behavior? What does he do afterwards?"

 

"The restraints. Where are they? Does he take them?"

 

"I would assume so, they certainly weren't found anywhere in the room or the immediate vicinity." 

 

"They must mean something to him, if they're worth taking. We've got the whole roll, so there's no other reason to."

 

Helen gave her a warm smile. "You're good at this."

 

"What about the burns on the third?"

 

"I think he's evolving. Prolonging his torture. He's a sexual sadist, his fantasy revolves around restraining his victims, taking away whatever power he feels they have over him. He takes the restraints to relive his crime over and over. He's probably around 30 to 45 years old, blue collar job, probably married with kids. He's unassuming, friendly, a handyman...and he smokes Marlboro lights."

 

"Marlboro lights?"

 

"Found at every crime scene."

 

MJ nodded then glanced at Helen. "I appreciate you showing me this but I'm pretty sure you're not here for just my input."

 

"Remember when you wanted me to go over all those case files?"

 

"Yeah..."

 

"Well...there was one just like it."

 

MJ's mind reeled; she had seen a great many files and a great many crime scene photos over the past weeks. She shot out of her chair. "Christ, Helen!" She stormed out, Helen on her tail. "I remember it. But I can do you one better!" 

 

The inspector knew exactly where she had left it. She had put it on Nico's desk to give it another two weeks before shelving. It was on the very top of the pile. 

 

She handed it to Helen who immediately studied it, refamiliarizing herself with the details. 

 

MJ meanwhile began rifling through her files, turning the stacks upside down. She opened drawer after drawer but came up empty. "Is that a donut?" Helen wondered but MJ's focus was elsewhere. "A donut in your drawer?"

 

"Whatcha looking for, boss?"

 

"The assault on the prostitute. Hey, Pach? The prostitute?"

 

"Which one?"

 

"Attempted murder."

 

"Ah...the one that got away. Yeah, I got it here."

 

Snatching the file out of his hand, MJ gave him a sweet smile. "Thanks. C'mon Helen, let's get your stuff. Oh, and Romero?"

 

"Yes, boss?"

 

"If anyone asks, I'm out for lunch..."

 

"Got it, boss..."

 

MJ frowned at him. "Just call me Monahan, for Christ's sake!"

 

 

*****


	12. Breadcrumbs

 

 

"MJ! MJ! Where are we going?"

 

The inspector jogged down the steps, Helen trailing after her armed with her attacheé. 

 

"We're investigating. Or do you want to show up at the FBI with nothing and just let 'em take over?" The small cop unlocked her car and got in. 

 

Helen however hesitated. "MJ, you investigate, I evaluate."

 

"Get in, doc."

 

Sighing, Helen relented once again and climbed into the car. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea...this could be dangerous. And what if we do the wrong thing?"

 

MJ snorted and sped out of the parking lot. "I'm a cop, this is what I do."

 

"But I'm not a cop. I'm a forensic psychiatrist. I look at the facts, I don't go out hunting for criminals." She could feel MJ's gaze studying her but refused to meet her eye. 

 

"Doesn't that ever bother you? To get there after the fact?"

 

"No," Helen grumped. "I like distancing myself. I don't want to be involved..."

 

"Then why did you come to me with this?"

 

Why? Helen glowered. "Because I trust you."

 

"Then trust me," MJ said and squeezed her hand. "You've got the bug, I can tell."

 

"The bug?"

 

"The hunt for Foley, I saw it then. You wanted to get him, show him that you're smarter. You had it in your eyes...it's like an addiction."

 

"Trust me, I know all about that," Helen said morosely. "The trouble is that even when you catch one, there's always another."

 

MJ shrugged indifferently, seemingly well aware of that particular fact. "I'd rather it be us."

 

"Us?"

 

"Yeah," the inspector replied gently. "I'm a great cop and they have me reviewing case files. And you? You're supposed to hand everything over to those ignorant asses at the FBI? We're damn good at this, Helen, can you honestly say that it would sit right with you handing this over to someone else?"

 

Helen mulled it over for a while, knowing the answer deep down. She said nothing, MJ would understand, and stared out of the window. 

 

"Helen?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"...what would happen, if, say, he figures out that the girl's still alive?"

 

***

 

MJ hammered on the door again - for someone so small, she made a lot of noise. "Sandy? Open the door! I'm not going away!"

 

Helen watched the demunitive inspector in slight shock and utter amazement. She was how Helen remembered her, larger than life, bossy and very confident. 

 

"Ma'am, go back inside, please." 

 

MJ flashed her badge at the nosy neighbor and banged on the door again. "C'mon, Sandy. We aren't here to bust you for meth or whatever you're flushing down the toilet."

 

The inspector pressed her ear against the door, listening. "C'mon, Sandy, we just wanna talk!"

 

The door was unbolted and slowly opened. A girl, Helen thought, a mere girl stood in the doorway. Her hair was jet black, her dark eyeshadow hiding her beautiful blue eyes. "I talked to the other guy, why do I have to go over all this shit again?"

 

"Can we come in?"

 

Sighing, the girl swung the door open. "Whatever..."

 

Helen bit her lip, anxious, and followed the inspector into the apartment. It smelled of cigarettes and incense, the room was dark, the bed unmade, clothes dumped on an armchair. All in all, Helen surmized, it looked like your average teenager's bedroom. 

 

"I ain't doing meth, by the way."

 

MJ smirked as she inspected the room. "Smart girl."

 

Sandy merely rolled her eyes and flopped onto the bed. "I'd offer you somethin' but I just ran outta donuts."

 

"Very funny."

 

"Now, what's all this about? And who is she? She sure don't look like a cop to me..."

 

Helen couldn't help but look down at her attire, feeling out of place and rather uncomfortable, while MJ just seemed to make herself at home. "My name is Helen..."

 

"...what is it y'all want from me?"

 

The inspector perched against the doorframe to the small kitchenette, crossing her arms. "You remember his face?"

 

"I don't think I could ever forget it."

 

"Think you can sit with a sketch artist, work on a composit for us?"

 

Sandy sighed. "I've got better things to do. I gotta get a job, the rent's not gonna pay itself...I can't dance no more, lookin' like this!" 

 

Helen gasped as the girl pulled down her shirt, revealing barely healed burn marks. MJ seemed undeterred, unmoved even, so unlike the woman Helen had come to know and love - MJ had impossible empathy, an impossibly big heart. It was one of the qualities the doctor most appreciated in her. 

 

But looking at her now, MJ seemed as cool as ice, unaffected. 

 

"You a Georgia girl?"

 

"What's it to ya?"

 

"I'm a Georgia girl..."

 

Sandy scoffed and lit a cigarette. "Georgia never done me any favors..."

 

"Sandy?" Helen was surprised as she heard her own voice. "Is that your real name?"

 

"Sandra...not that exciting, huh?" She dragged on her cigarette then suddenly stubbed it out. "Look. I just want this to be over...I want it to go away."

 

"Ignoring it won't make it go away." Helen came closer to the bed. "You think this guy has power over you?"

 

"I see him in my sleep," Sandy cried suddenly. "He's always there!"

 

Helen sat and reached out, touching the fist clenched hand of the girl. "You have power over him. You know what he looks like. You know how he smelled, sounded, walked...you can help us catch him and at least then, when you wake up at night, you know which prison he's rotting in."

 

Sandy wiped her eyes, her makeup running down her cheek in black lines. "Why is it y'all are suddenly so interested in him anyhow? He kill someone important?"

 

"He killed four girls, Sandy." MJ said.

 

"Four?"

 

"Piece of shit's been busy."

 

"Damn, well...um, so how does this thing work with the sketch artist?"

 

"First off, pack some things. We'll put you up in a hotel for a few nights."

 

"What? Why?"

 

"Just to make sure you're safe." MJ said. "And I'll bring the sketch artist down." 

 

***

 

MJ entered the motel room with a giant box of pizza. "I didn't know what you liked so I got pepperoni." 

 

Helen was sitting with the girl, Lou, the sketch artist was busy drawing. 

 

"The nose was more...like...curved." 

 

Pleased that everything was going smoothly, MJ opened a can of coke and slurped, glancing over Lou's shoulder curiously. 

 

"More like this?"

 

"Yeah, that's it. Except he had like...a scar across it."

 

It was all coming together nicely. "Helen?" She nodded towards the far corner where the two met up. "How's she holding up?"

 

"Pretty good...considering."

 

MJ studied the doctor's face - she knew that expression, that mask of impassivity, all too well. "What about you?"

 

"Me?" Helen asked. "I'm...okay." 

 

"But?" There was more, wasn't there.

 

"But...it's difficult to keep my mind on the perpetrator and not the victim. I don't usually deal with this side of things."

 

MJ nodded, well aware of how Helen must feel. Sandy was a nice girl; troubled but nice, a decent human being as far as MJ could tell. Helen had gone through a lot, it seemed only natural to identify with the girl.

 

Hell, MJ thought, she herself had gone through a lot, but she just couldn't allow herself to feel a thing.

 

"I'm sure Lou can finish up here and I got all I need, so how about I drop you home on my way to the station?"

 

Helen seemed to weigh her options then nodded timidly. She had had enough, MJ could tell, and she needed to go home, weary as she was. 

 

"Lou? I gotta go. You alright here?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Sandy? I'll swing by tomorrow with some breakfast, so don't you go wandering around. Here," MJ reached into her blazer pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes. "No going to the shop or anything like that, call me up if you need anything, okay?"

 

Sandy nodded with a sad smile. "Thanks."

 

"Not a problem..." MJ smiled back and handed Helen her attaché, ready to go.

 

"Hey, inspector?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Georgia girl, huh?"

 

MJ smirked as she halted in the doorway. "Atlanta born and bred."

 

Sandy snorted. "Figures..."

 

"What?"

 

"...see you tomorrow...you god damned townie."

 

***

 

MJ pulled into the parking lot with ease, stopping in what was now designated 'her space'. 

 

"I'd happily hand that medal back if they gave me a new car instead..." She grumbled.

 

Helen smiled at her friend's repeated complaints and shook her head. "I have a car, you know? But I'm not sure whether I'd want you chasing criminals in it..."

 

"You got a car?!" 

 

Helen shrugged. "It's just a little red number...maybe I'll get it out of storage for you one day."

 

"Well, you'd think they'd issue me a crown vic...anything's better than this heap of failings."

 

Snorting in amusement, Helen threw the car door open.

 

"Walk you up? It's getting dark."

 

Her heart warmed a little at the offer and even though she was quite capable of getting into her apartment, Helen nodded anyway. "I'd appreciate that."

 

As they walked up the steps to the apartment building, a cold breeze went by them, carrying the scent of the sea. It was getting cooler and Helen's mind wandered to the upcoming Christmas festivities. Would MJ leave for Atlanta? 

 

Well, Helen thought, it wasn't even Thanksgiving yet. 

 

"When will you be home?"

 

"Eh," MJ grumped. "I have to get back to the station and make it look like I didn't just spend the day on a man hunt. I won't be long."

 

"What about dinner?"

 

"Don't wait for me...I probably got a talking to coming."

 

"Don't be silly," Helen said as they came to a stop in front of her door. "You didn't have breakfast and you spent your lunch hour chasing after this girl. We're having dinner together."

 

"Alright," MJ mumbled sheepishly. "By the way, good work today. You were really good with Sandy..."

 

Helen didn't know what to say to that - she felt elated and a sense of accomplishment, things she hadn't felt in a long time. Perhaps when they had hunted for Foley and her opinion had actually mattered. 

 

"Penny?"

 

Helen looked up, realizing she had stared into nothingness. "Oh...I just thought how good it felt to have been useful."

 

"That you are," MJ snarked. "And that's why we're going to the FBI with some amunition. They'd be better off with you than without you."

 

"That's very nice of you to say but--"

 

"No buts. I mean it."

 

Helen smiled ruefully. "I know you do..."

 

"Now, get in there. I'll be home soon, okay?"

 

"Okay," Helen said quietly as she unlocked the door. MJ was already on her way down the hall, marching into the night.

 

Helen just watched her for a moment until she disappeared. 

 

If only MJ felt the same...

 

Hope. A powerful thing. 

 

Inside, Helen took off her blazer and shoes, and dropped her briefcase next to her computer chair. It was too easy to keep hope alive. Too easy. She had called this place home. She had walked her up to the door.

 

The other day MJ had embraced her.

 

Hope was a terrible thing. 

 

And perhaps Margo had been right - perhaps the wee inspector was just another person, nothing special, just a girl that was utterly...utterly irresistible.

 

Helen threw herself onto the sofa, flinging her arm over her eyes, maudlin. As much as she liked to tell herself she was exaggerating feelings, she knew it was all just for show. If she proved Margo right, Helen thought, then these feelings would go away...just as Margo had said they would.

 

But that just wasn't the truth. They would have to discuss it in their next session.

 

Because MJ was just right; she was smart, witty, beautiful and she did everything right. Even when she wasn't.

 

Helen laid there for a while until she managed to put her thoughts into some semblance of order then stared into the fridge. Dinner would be a very simple affair.

 

***

 

'I'm not here,' MJ mouthed to her few remaining colleagues and made her way to her desk. She would have to take work home and hopefully catch up on everything. Her new 'partner' had gone home - she was still not sure what to do about him. He was awful, barely any experience, and his mouth never seemed to stop. 

 

Gathering her things, and disposing of the half eaten donut, MJ made to leave.

 

"Monahan! My office!"

 

MJ cursed under her breath. She trudged towards Quinn's office, knowing what was coming, and so did the rest of the precinct judging by the snickers she left in her wake.

 

"Lieutenant," MJ said, having prepared a speech for this very event. "I know this looks bad but I--"

 

"I don't wanna know about it if you did what I think you did," Quinn was puffing on a cigarette, drinking the remainder of his cold coffee. "We've been over this, hell, we've been over this twice."

 

"I just can't do it," MJ argued. "I just can't, it's not right."

 

"What do you want me to do about it?" Quinn shrugged, flicking ash off his cigarette - his off-handed, almost indefferent demeanor seriously began to grate on MJ. "It's not up to me."

 

"I can't take it. No one's gonna take me serious, no one's gonna respect me--"

 

"Boo hoo," he interrupted and stubbed out his smoke. "You better get over it 'cause they're wondering what the holdup is and if you don't get your ass into that shrink's office, they're gonna send some asshole from Narcotics and you know how much they love a task force."

 

"Sir--"

 

"Get your act together, Monahan. Tomorrow, 9 o'clock sharp." He shrugged again. "Just look at it this way: you tripped and fell face first in a big pile of Christmas. Now...get out of here."

 

***

 

MJ drove home contemplating her next move. Could she dodge this appointment? Could she handle having an outsider waltz in and take it all?

 

Was there still a chance for Nico?

 

Would he be terribly upset?

 

It was all a big mess and the worst was that it could have been avoided...

 

Hindsight and all that.

 

Parking her car, MJ looked up at the windows, the shutters were closed and she couldn't even tell whether there was still light inside. Helen would be there waiting with dinner on the table. It was quite comical, MJ thought as she hoisted the files higher up on her hip; her bedtime reading material.

 

Comical, really. She had been jealous that Helen had received Reuben's attentions. He had been a boy, not ready for anything MJ might have wanted, not that they would ever find out now; but here she was, with Helen...the most unlikely allie.

 

Unlocking the heavy door to the apartment, MJ began to wonder what was for dinner. Not that she was terribly hungry - Quinn had ruined what little appetite she had - but Helen would force feed her if she felt she had to, so MJ might as well be a willing participant.

 

"I'm back," MJ announced loudly and found Helen in the hall, putting the receiver back on its cradle. "What's for dinner?"

 

"I ordered Italian," she said. "We need to buy groceries."

 

"I know, I'm sorry," MJ replied wearily. "That's my job."

 

"Don't be silly...now, put those where I can't see them," she meant the files, "and come sit with me. I put a video on."

 

"You're allowing me on the couch with a pizza?"

 

"I said Italian, not junk food."

 

MJ rolled her eyes, trying very hard to look annoyed but couldn't help the smile. "What are we watching?"

 

"Silence of the Lambs."

 

"Yes! Love that movie." MJ made her way to her room - she needed to get out of these clothes. "But hey, I don't wanna hear any of your 'factual commentating'. Not a word about Ed Gein!"

 

"Not a word," Helen vowed while prepared the dishes. 

 

MJ felt better already - not only did she have a very strong lead on a case even the FBI couldn’t crack but she was about to spend a nice evening with her friend. 

 

Helen was getting better, that thought kept torturing her. Was it stupid not to want to move back into her own place? Sure, this appartment was nice and in a much better area but it was Helen's place and one day, probably very soon, MJ would have to leave.

 

What kept her here? 

 

Probably the fact that she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Maybe she wasn’t meant to live alone. She had three brothers and she had never had a moment to herself growing up.

 

"Are you ready? The food is getting cold."

 

Sighing, MJ slipped a t-shirt over her head and met Helen in the living room. The film was ready to go and two plates sat on the coffee table.

 

MJ frowned. "What is that?"

 

"Gnocchi," Helen simply said then rolled her eyes. "For Christ's sakes, MJ, just eat it."

 

"I wasn't complaining!"

 

***

 

As the credits rolled MJ felt Helen's eyes on her...again. Sighing, the inspector threw the knit blanket aside and faced her friend.

 

"Alright, spit it out. You've been looking at me funny all night."

 

She could tell Helen wanted to deny the allegation but thought better of it, instead picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "Your Lieutenant Quinn called."

 

"My Lieutenant Quinn? What did he want? Did he leave a message?"

 

"Of sorts."

 

Of sorts? MJ frowned. 

 

"He must think we're sleeping together, too..." Helen mumbled.

 

"Okay, what's going on?"

 

"I could ask you the same thing."

 

Losing her patience and quickly, MJ huffed. "I got no idea what you're talking about, Helen."

 

"That's the point...is there something you need to get off your chest?"

 

"Not really..."

 

"Well," Helen said, looking quite put out. "He said the reason you're not back in the field yet is that you seem to refuse to see the department shrink. So, if thre's something wrong--"

 

"Nothing's wrong," MJ argued.

 

That little weasel, now who was leaking like a rusty bucket.

 

"Then what's the matter? I'm worried about you."

 

Seeing her friend's obvious distress, MJ made to get up and pace the length of the living room. "They want to promote me and I don't want the job, or, I do, but not like this."

 

"Who is they? And what promotion?" 

 

"The brass..." MJ sighed and stared at the shut blinds. "They want me to take Nico's job...and he gets demoted."

 

"Because of what happened. With Reuben."

 

"Yeah," MJ said quietly. "Because the idiot didn't secure his weapon."

 

"So. What now?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

 

"I don't know! Helen, I couldn't live with myself, taking Nico's job and--"

 

"He forfited his position when he made this grave mistake, a mistake that got your partner killed."

 

"It's not that easy," MJ interrupted, having gone down that path plenty of times before. "It's not as black and white as that."

 

Helen came up behind her and MJ felt her hand come to rest tentatively on her shoulder. "Obviously they think you're qualified."

 

"They're giving it to me because of what happened with Foley and--"

 

"You keep saying that," Helen insisted. "But that's just not the truth."

 

Sighing and giving in a little, MJ turned around and looked up at Helen.

 

"You're a great cop. And you deserve this."

 

Averting her gaze at the unexpected compliment, MJ shook her head. 

 

"Mary Jane? Go see the shrink."

 

"Okay..."

 

"You don't owe Nico anything."

 

"I know..."

 

"Now, pick up the phone and tell him what's coming."

 

Nodding, and knowing deep down Helen was absolutely right, MJ released a deep breath. 

 

"Come here..."

 

MJ fell into Helen's embrace quite willingly - she had always been a tactile person - and let her head clear itself. She truly felt much better then, holding onto Helen's comfort cardigan and the scent of Chanel no.5. She did deserve this, the promotion; heck, she deserved it the first time around. 

 

But they had picked Nico.

 

Now it was her turn. Rightfully so. 

 

"Helen?" Leaning back and looking up into her friend's bemused eyes, MJ realized that this was why she dreaded moving out. 

 

"Yes?" Helen prompted.

 

She liked it here. Grateful, MJ leaned forward and kissed Helen gently. Jesus, she thought in the same instance, she was making herself look like an idiot. "I'm sorry--"

 

"It's okay."

 

"I didn't mean it. I mean, I did. What I meant was...thank you, Helen, for always being there for me."

 

Helen looked at her, even more bemused than before. "Always."

 

Snorting, MJ shook her head, still somewhat embarrassed. "I'm turning into a basket case."

 

"I must be rubbing off on you."

 

"Maybe just a little."

 

"Hey!" Helen nudged her away and in the direction of the phone. "Be nice."

 

"I'm always nice."

 

"Well," Helen groused. "You just play dirty."

 

***

 

Twenty minutes in and the argument was still going. Helen sighed gently; having cleared away their dishes, she had gotten changed, ready for bed in a satin slip. She sat on the sofa, listening to the heated words coming out of the slight inspector.

 

Helen had gathered, from what little MJ had mentioned, that her and Nico had once been an item of sorts. She didn't know for how long or what her friend saw in him. She knew however, that he was married. 

 

Separated, MJ had said, until he wasn't. 

 

Helen had felt an immediate dislike for the man, although she wasn't entirely sure whether it was out of sympathy for her friend or simply jealousy. 

 

They had been partners once and then, well, Nico had gotten promoted.

 

Perhaps it had gone downhill from there, Helen mused, because MJ had deserved that job more. 

 

Staring at MJ's back, Helen lifted her hand and touched her lips with the mere tips of her fingers. She knew she was being terribly immature and silly but couldn't help the warmth spreading through her tummy.

 

Perhaps MJ did feel something? Their relationship, as it was, certainly wasn't conventional. They were much too close for mere friends, surely, Helen thought, MJ must recognize that.

 

But then it was seldom that simple. Perhaps she herself created this intimacy. And for all she knew, MJ was completely and utterly straight. 

 

Then again, Helen thought, so was she...mostly. 

 

That 'mostly' really nagged her. Helen knew now that she had always been too pulled together and uptight for her own good - she might have missed it. 

 

But now there was hope. Their constant back and forth wasn’t just banter, it was flirting. 

 

Yes. There certainly was hope.

 

 

*****


	13. They Shoot Horses, Don't They?

 

 

"What am I supposed to say to him?"

 

Helen had just shrugged and simply said, "The truth." She could tell that MJ hadn't found her advice particularly helpful.

 

This time, Helen was the one waiting. MJ had sat very patiently many a times, spending some quality time with Margo's assistant. 

 

Leafing through an old magazine, Helen came upon a black and white picture of herself next to a small advertisement of an upcoming lecture. Staring at her old self, Helen found she missed the person she used to be. Strong, independent, confident and well respected.

 

Doctor Helen Hudson, the woman who had stared countless serial offenders in the eye.

 

And what she thought she had learned from her experiences, horrific as they had been, well, she began to discard it all. Reliving it at the hands of Peter Foley had given her a complete new perspective. Ironic really, to draw a different conclusion from the same event.

 

The effect had been instantaneous, the realization that control had meant surrender immediate. 

 

And the fact that, while she hung there, depriving her brain of oxygen, she didn't want to die after all, startled her - the fight she had left in her, the drive to live had been so strong, it had taken her by surprise. 

 

Discarding the magazine with a sigh, Helen rubbed her temples. Personal growth was a mysterious thing, subjectively barely traceable, even under intense self scrutiny and introspection, but Helen knew she was changing right there before her own eyes, the evidence reflected back at her every morning.

 

Growing into her own skin, growing to love MJ...

 

Just as she thought of the inspector the door flew open and the smaller woman emerged, smiling, followed by Doctor Stevens. 

 

"So how long is this gonna take?"

 

"I will finish my report today and hand in my recommendations."

 

"Excellent." MJ was beaming. 

 

Pleased for her friend, Helen gathered her things. 

 

"Doctor Hudson..." Stevens held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, finally. I uh attended one of your presentations at a conference in Chicago three years ago."

 

Helen gave him a diplomatic smile and shook his hand. "Well, I hope you found it helpful."

 

"I did, very much so. I work as a consultant for the police department, nothing as exciting as you deal with, I'm sure..."

 

"That's nice of you to say but I'm retired now."

 

"Semi retired," MJ interjected. "Helen's working with the FBI on a case."

 

"A small favor," Helen explained, feeling herself blush a little. 

 

"Well, uh...I thought perhaps we could talk more in depth some time. Over coffee?"

 

She should have seen that one coming, Helen thought. "I'll give it some thought."

 

Stevens smiled, bemused. "Let me know when you've mulled it over. Here's my card."

 

Helen took the business card and pocketed it without much thought then looked at MJ who seemed ready to go. "It was nice meeting you."

 

"Likewise," he said to both of them. 

 

In the elevator on the way down, Helen wondered what the inspector tried very hard not to say. Glancing at her, Helen found nothing out of the ordinary and so she decided to prod. "I gather it all went well?"

 

"It sure looks that way."

 

"He seems nice."

 

MJ shrugged. "Not too bad for a shrink."

 

"Gosh, aren't you just the comedienne."

 

The inspector snorted.

 

"Spit it out."

 

"Oh, it's nothing."

 

"C'mon, out with it."

 

MJ suddenly laughed then parroted, in a slightly deeper voice, "Perhaps we could talk more in depth some time. Over coffee."

 

"Ha ha," Helen replied evenly as the elevator doors opened. "Very funny."

 

"You gonna call him?"

 

"I don't know..." Helen lagged behind a bit as the wee inspector walked ahead, out of the building. "He seemed nice," she then said, wondering.

 

"Too slick if you ask me." MJ replied casually. "Besides, I thought you had a thing for uniforms?"

 

***

 

Helen cringed at the loud argument going on on the other side of the door. She could hear pretty much every unpleasant word. 

 

"I was wrong, I don't have an issue saying it. I was wrong about her but you gotta get yourself some perspective!"

 

Lieutenant Quinn didn’t sound angry but rather very serious and severe. MJ had had it coming, really, gallivanting around San Francisco, getting herself involved with FBI affairs...and Helen Hudson, again. 

 

They really thought MJ was sleeping with her - Helen thought it was a joke at first but people were talking, apparently. Even Quinn thought it, proving as much when he had called her, demanding she get MJ to see the shrink and just then, a mere moment ago, when he had accused MJ of bias.

 

They probably shouldn't live together anymore, hell, it would do herself some good to put at least a bit of distance between them, even if it was only physical. 

 

"He crossed state lines, that makes it a federal case. Nothing I coulda done about it."

 

"You could've kept your nose out of it!"

 

Helen bit her lip as the heated discussion was slowly dying down and all that remained were muted voices.

 

Oh, MJ, she thought. Her friend had gotten herself into a heap of trouble by helping her. Again.

 

The door swung open then and MJ stepped out with a very muted expression on her face. Without a word, just a look, she turned down the hallway and Helen followed dutifully.

 

"Monahan! Monday, be ready!" Quinn called after them.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

As he had disappeared and his door had slammed and rattled sufficiently to underline his mood, Helen leaned closer. "Ready for what?"

 

"My promotion," MJ replied flatly.

 

"He hasn't changed his mind?"

 

The inspector stopped short of the bullpen, weary. "I don't think it's up to him..." She sighed. "Look. I screwed up a little..."

 

"I gathered that."

 

"But these girls need our help and from what you said, it doesn't sound like the FBI is throwing any manpower at this."

 

"Well, they aren't," Helen admitted ruefully. "That's why they asked me."

 

"Then let's go and show 'em what we've got."

 

Somewhat panic stricken, Helen grabbed MJ's arm. "You think that's a good idea?"

 

"That's the plan," the small inspector said calmly. "I go over there before they come over here and take over. Quinn said he'll take the heat."

 

"Lieutenant Quinn said that?"

 

MJ merely gave her a look and swung the door to the bullpen open for her. Resigning herself to the fact that her friend would not let this go, like a dog with a bone, Helen stepped into the bustling room. They made their way to MJ’s desk; everyone was staring, Helen could feel it. 

 

"Boss..?" Romero sidled up to them as MJ donned her jacket.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Boss," he said in a lowered voice. "Anything I can do while you're out?"

 

"Nah."

 

"Boss? I was wondering...uh, when am I going to do some actual police work?"

 

MJ stared at him for a moment, looking startled then scribbled a note on a piece of paper which she then stuffed into his jacket pocket. "Go there. Don't tell anyone. Tell the girl I sent you and take her to the diner across the road. Lunch's on you. And do not take your eyes off her. Got it?"

 

"Okay..."

 

"Got it?"

 

"Okay, I got, I got," he replied hastily. 

 

MJ gave him a curt nod then sped off. Helen just smiled at him encouragingly and followed her friend who was tearing down the marble hall towards the exit, a stack of files tucked under her arm. 

 

***

 

"What about his fingerprints? What about that DNA thing you do in your fancy lab?"

 

Agent Hammond, a burly guy, sighed, folding his arms. "NDIS you mean? CODIS?"

 

"Yeah, that. Can't we find him with that?"

 

Hammond shrugged. "Even if his DNA were in there yet, which is highly unlikely, it takes months to get a DNA profile on someone."

 

"So what?" MJ argued. "What about his fingerprints?"

 

"We're looking into it but it can take weeks. It would help to actually have someone to compare them to."

 

MJ scoffed and glanced at Helen who looked entirely impassive. "So what you're saying is that all your shiny FBI stuff isn't gonna help us any?"

 

Hammond nodded. "That sums it up. It's down to good old fashioned detective work. But hey, thanks to you we now have a pretty detailed picture of who we're looking for."

 

MJ watched him pick up the sketch Lou had drawn yesterday - he was being an utter dick. "Average height, build, brown hair...at least we're not looking for your Mister Average anymore."

 

"Point taken," Hammond said evenly and picked up his coffee. "Look, you don’t even know if he's still here. He could've moved on to another city, another state which makes it our problem but of course I can’t keep you from looking into it..."

 

Incredulous, MJ stared at him. "That's it?"

 

There was no response, just a shrug. Furious, MJ began gathering her things, the file laid out on the table and the police sketch. 

 

"Agent Hammond," Helen finally spoke. "I'd like to keep working on this. I think I can narrow down the suspect pool if all the information is being made available to me."

 

"And the inspector's help I presume?"

 

"Yes. Also, I'd like to speak to the agent who has gathered all this data...agent Purcell, is it?"

 

"He is a data analyst."

 

"Great," Helen said. "Where can I find him?"

 

"Okay, okay," Hammond groused. "To tell you the truth, I want this dealt with just as much as you do but we don't have the manpower. Kids disappearing is taking priority over dead hookers. What I can give you is what resources we have..."

 

"And what's that?" MJ prodded. 

 

"Purcell."

 

The inspector snorted then suddenly stilled. "Actually, all I need is the San Francisco police department's resources." She looked at Helen and smiled.

 

"I see where you're going," her friend said. "Agent Hammond, I think you need to make a phone call..."

 

***

 

"Monday!" Was the first thing MJ said to her when she got home that night.

 

Helen lifted her eyebrows questioningly at the small inspector. "Monday?" MJ's grin widened as she came to a stop next to Helen and her computers.

 

"That's when I'm getting my task force," she practically beamed and snatched the Twizzler out of Helen's grasp.

 

"The FBI called."

 

"Uh huh...."

 

Helen snorted at her friend's ridiculous excitement, eating the Twizzler where she had left off.

 

"You're a genius by the way."

 

"It was you who came up with the idea," Helen argued and watched MJ practically skip into the kitchen. The fridge door opened and remained that way for a good ten seconds before she heard MJ's voice again, overly casual.

 

"How was your meeting?"

 

Helen smirked and abandoned her chess game. "I still have a chip if that's what you're asking?" As she arrived in the kitchen, MJ had gotten the sixer of beer out and had placed it on the counter like a piece of evidence in a murder trial. "I got it for you. They told me it was the best craft beer money could buy."

 

Her friend snorted and pulled out one of the stumpy bottles with a raised eyebrow.

 

"I thought you might want to celebrate tonight...or commiserate. I even got steak."

 

MJ's face turned a comical mixture of utter awe and affection. "You're the best." She stood up on her tip toes and kissed Helen's cheek then sped off to her room, unbuttoning her blouse. "We'll have clam bake next week, or whatever it is you yanks like..."

 

Helen snorted, bemused, and shook her head, trying to keep her cheeks from reddening at the unexpected gesture of affection. MJ was a very tactile person and sometimes that was difficult to bear, especially now with being terribly in love with her and all that. 

 

With a gentle sigh Helen got the steaks out - apparently it was vital they reach room temperature before cooking, according to MJ, and Helen wasn't going to argue. The roast potatoes were in the oven and she had wrapped some asparagus in parma ham - the more meat, the better, at least that was MJ's philosophy, and some fresh peas were waiting. 

 

MJ liked simple things. That thought was terrifying because Helen was anything but. 

 

Opening a bottle of beer as she finally heard the shower turn off, Helen waited for MJ to emerge. She looked stunning every time; skin warm and rosy, hair hazardously dried and tousled, that little, innocent smile playing around her lips, and of course that black tank top that was so tight, MJ never wore a bra with it.

 

Helen nearly wasted away just thinking about it. 

 

"Here," she said as MJ wandered into the kitchen, looking just as predicted as she took the beer from Helen.

 

"You sure?"

 

"It's open, you have to drink it."

 

MJ just chuckled and checked the potatoes in the oven. "Do you miss it?"

 

"Drinking? Sometimes."

 

"Sometimes?" MJ asked innocently - wide eyed little girl and all.

 

Helen smiled. "I used to miss it more...every day. Sometimes every minute of every day."

 

"And now?"

 

"...sometimes," Helen shrugged. 

 

***

 

Surely this new one wouldn't come after her too. He liked them young and cheap. He liked to tie them up and live out his sadistic sexual desires. 

 

He wouldn't be interested in her yet he felt terribly close, as if he were waiting around the next corner or right behind her, stepping into her footsteps.

 

Perhaps it was she who stepped in his?

 

With that thought in mind, Helen stared at MJ's sleeping form, her desire for the woman almost overwhelming her. How badly she wanted to touch her, to gain her affections and be loved by her. 

 

Sitting down on the bed, Helen felt that chilly presence again, right beside her. 

 

_Oh, MJ..._

 

Her heart nearly stopped, nearly burst with that exhilerating feeling of falling in love for the very first time, the thrill of that moment when you saw her first. 

 

The desire to possess her became unbearable until all she could feel was that need in the pit of her stomach.

 

Her thoughts were swept away and her mind was overtaken. 

 

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Helen looked down at her hands and with shock she realized she was clutching a roll of tape to her chest. 

 

As she looked up, MJ stared straight at her.

 

"Please don't hurt me..."

 

Fear stricken, Helen wanted to recoil at the startling realization that the woman was taped to the bed, her wrists tightly bound. 

 

"What have I done?"

 

"You don't have to do this..."

 

She put her hand over MJ's face and looked away. She felt the small body struggle for endless minutes, waiting for it to go still. 

 

"Oh, god," Helen wailed and awoke with a start. "Oh, god!" She cried instantly and tried to get out of bed. Above loomed MJ, wide eyed, but Helen couldn't bear to look at her even. She shimmied out of bed and made a frantic dash into the bathroom. 

 

She wanted to be sick but couldn’t bring herself to heave, instead she ripped open the cabinet and pulled out every pill bottle in sight - she needed something! 

 

"Helen, stop it!" 

 

MJ had come up behind her yet her voice seemed far away in the distance. Pill bottles fell into the sink, spilling their contents, and Helen began to pick, randomly, not caring what it was or what it would do to her as long as it stopped her from hyperventilating. 

 

"No!" 

 

Pills rolled all over the floor, the water was running, washing everything away. 

 

Nauseous, Helen went for the shower, the room began to spin, and she realized she was mumbling something about John Quincy Adams before everything went dark.

 

***

 

Breathing in slowly, Helen opened her eyes.

 

She was on the cold, tiled bathroom floor. 

 

She immediately realized what had happened; she had had a panic attack, and right in front of the woman she loved. She had raged and cried and emptied her medicine cabinet, ibuprofen spilling everywhere, upon which she had passed out.

 

Helen felt terrible embarrassment. She must have looked like a complete lunatic. 

 

Her eyes filled with tears. 

 

"I had hoped you'd never see me like that again," she said feebly.

 

MJ, who had cradled her head in her lap, stroked her temple. "Like what?"

 

"At my worst." 

 

"I didn’t put a bag over your head if that helps any..."

 

Helen appreciated the humor yet couldn’t laugh. All she wanted was to get up and hide somewhere but looking at MJ just wasn’t an option. 

 

"Want to get back in bed?"

 

"Can’t we just stay here for a while?"

 

"Helen," MJ said in her trademark sing-song.

 

Sighing, the doctor made to get up. "Alright..." Trying her best not to meet MJ's gaze, Helen went back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment then got in. MJ sat down next to her and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. 

 

"Wanna talk about it?"

 

"No..."

 

"Want me to stay for a bit?"

 

Feeling exhausted and awfully vulnerable, Helen wanted to say no but instead nodded glumly. MJ just smiled at her, her long hair spilling over her shoulders. She then reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of Helen's face with utter gentleness.

 

Helen wanted to cry. She loved this woman desperately.

 

Reaching out herself, Helen caressed the inspector's cheek; just for a moment, she thought, because that she could chalk up to a foggy mind and cloudy judgement.

 

"What is it?" MJ asked, wonder in her eyes, and a warmth that, Helen wondered, she perhaps wasn’t aware of. 

 

"You're a very sweet girl, MJ."

 

"I'm not a girl," the inspector replied, grinning.

 

Chuckling a little, Helen dropped her hand and closed her eyes.

 

"Get some sleep..."

 

Nodding tiredly, Helen intended to do just that while her friend, her MJ, held her hand.

 

***

 

The next morning, Helen stared at MJ's slack features. The inspector had seemingly collapsed in bed beside her, her hair spilling over the pillows and a small, warm hand resting on Helen's stomach. 

 

It felt glorious yet painful to have her this close, and her beauty brought tears to Helen's eyes.

 

They would have to talk, she decided, and she had to say her piece before this drove her insane. 

 

 

*****


	14. Roll the Dice

 

 

Pachulsky, Jackson, Neymar, Cole. Her task force so far. 

 

And Romero, of course.

 

She had pulled in Neymar and Cole from their beat, down in Tenderloin to help out. Cole was a young thing with utterly blonde hair and Neymar, well, he never spoke. 

 

"Andrea?" 

 

"Yah?"

 

"Can you guys get the word out on the street tonight? See if anyone recognizes the guy but do not leave any of these floating around. We dont want to spook him."

 

"Got it," the blonde said, speaking for her partner as well as herself. 

 

"Pachulsky, where are we on the old case files?"

 

"Romero is going through 'em, going back two months. Should keep him occupied for the same duration..."

 

MJ smirked. "Let's hope so. Uh, Jackson, anything on the tape?"

 

"Nothing unusual," the burly inspector said. "Can get it in most diy stores, etc."

 

"Doctor Hudson thinks the guy has a blue collar job, something physical. Could be a plumber, trucker, contractor, anything. Let's focus on places you can get that stuff in bulk and who is buying it."

 

Jackson scoffed. "Could be anything!"

 

"Look for a connection. San Francisco, San Diego, Phoenix."

 

"That’s gonna take a while."

 

"Okay," MJ said, "Let's wrap this up for tonight. Monday we're gonna get that FBI fella in and the Chief promised us a few more hands. We need to start calling people, see if we can find more victims, focus on anything between here and Phoenix."

 

Pachulsky nodded. "I got a couple friends down in LA, see if they come up with anything."

 

"Sounds good." MJ looked at her little team and nodded, satisfied. "Alright, let's get outta here. Cole? Let me know if you hear anything."

 

Everybody filed out of the room. The two beat cops gathered the sketch and Pachulsky was straight on the phone to Los Angeles, not wanting to leave it over the weekend, while Jackson gathered his coat. 

 

MJ couldn't wait to get home; she was hungry and exhausted, having survived on bad coffee and a Snickers that Helen had shoved at her this morning. 

 

Helen. 

 

Something wasn't quite right with her. She hadn’t said much about her dream or the panic attack for that matter and when MJ had woken up the next morning, Helen had played possum. 

 

Perhaps over dinner tonight, she could drag it out of her.

 

***

 

"Are you gonna eat that?"

 

Helen looked down at her nearly untouched plate. "Uh, yes."

 

"You been quiet tonight."

 

"Just thinking...sorry."

 

"About?"

 

Sighing, Helen put her fork down. "MJ, please don’t interrogate me. I have to get my head straight then we can talk."

 

The inspector's eyes roamed over her then settled on her face. "I'm glad you're not insulting my intelligence by telling me it's nothing."

 

"It would be futile..." Helen finally smiled a little. 

 

"I know you too well. Now, eat your beans."

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

MJ wouldn’t judge her, Helen thought as she did as she was told. MJ was a fair person, understanding and kind. She wouldn’t judge and she wouldn’t quit being her friend. 

 

Helen wished she had talked to Margo about this whole thing but hadn’t felt ready to say anything about it at all; instead she had filled their session with idle chit chat which she now started to regret. She wished she had at least a plan.

 

'MJ, I'm in love with you and us living together is driving me crazy.'

 

'MJ, I have feelings for you, I hope we can remain friends.'

 

'MJ, I love you and I think you might feel something too.'

 

'MJ, I want to be more than friends, do you want that too?'

 

'MJ, I think we've danced around this for too long--'

 

"Helen?" MJ sing-songed again, smirking. "What's with the dreamy expression? You're not thinking about Doc Stevens, are you?"

 

Helen bit her lip. "What if I was?" She prompted, hoping to catch some sort of sign of jealousy or sadness or anger, anything really. 

 

MJ just looked at her then smiled her crooked half smile. "You serious?"

 

"Do I look serious?"

 

"If you're serious you gotta call the guy up, I mean, he seemed--"

 

"Mary Jane?" Helen interrupted what was quickly turning into a ramble. "I'm not serious."

 

"But even if you were--"

 

"Mary Jane..." Now or never. "You're the only one on my mind."

 

There was an awful silence then MJ frowned, a whole myriad of emotions playing over her features. "What..?"

 

"I have to tell you something..."

 

"Wait a minute," MJ said and got up. "What are you saying? You-you--"

 

"MJ?" Helen rounded the table, shaking. She hadn't thought this through and she didn’t think it would be this hard or scary. "I've been...I think there's something you and me need to talk about."

 

"No, you need to tell me what you're saying!"

 

"I'm trying!" Helen took a deep breath and came closer. "We've been doing this for a while now..."

 

"Doing what?" 

 

MJ seemed to calm down a little but she stared, wide eyed, up at Helen. Her face had gone white and Helen could see her hands shake ever so slightly. Helen took one of them into her own, squeezing the delicate fingers. "I think you know."

 

The inspector's bottom lip wobbled and her eyes began to glaze over, tears pricking at the corners. "I don’t."

 

Helen smiled a little and gently touched MJ's cheek, letting her affection show openly for the first time. 

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"For goodness sake, Mary Jane."

 

Helen did the most courageous thing she had probably ever done and kissed MJ, gently, sweetly, lingering just long enough to make it unmistakingly clear that it meant more. 

 

Oh god, it felt...it felt like everything Helen had hoped it would. Her body shook and trembled with fear and excitement, and the simple fact that MJ kissed her back, her soft lips moving against her own, tentatively, exhilerated her more than anything she had felt in a very long time.

 

Letting go, Helen drew back, hoping that she had her answer. 

 

MJ's expression was one of confusion and wonderment, her eyes darted over Helen's face and settled on her lips. 

 

Helen swallowed. "Say something..." She whispered.

 

The inspector's lips moved around words that just wouldn’t come.

 

"MJ?"

 

"I can’t."

 

MJ backed away, slowly, and then she just disappeared.

 

 

*****


	15. No More Bets, Please

 

 

MJ stood over the dead body with a sad expression marring her features.

 

She usually didn’t allow herself to feel much of anything but this sadness was an indulgence she felt she deserved. 

 

Another girl, another cheap motel room, another life wasted.

 

It was Sunday afternoon and she had come home from her run to a message from Romero on her answering machine. This certainly wasn’t how she had wanted to spend her weekend but then again, moping on the couch in her dingy seeming apartment wasn’t it either.

 

She was used to Helen's place but that wasn’t something she wanted to think about anyway.

 

She just wished she had seen it coming, especially since it was so utterly clear now.

 

Shaking her head, MJ straightened and made room for the coroner. 

 

Dave, the CSU tech was bagging the roll of tape from the bedside table.

 

"Almost looks like he wanted to present it to us," Romero said, meaning the tape.

 

"Sure does." Looking around the room again, MJ spotted the no smoking sign on the door. "This a no smoking room?"

 

"Uh, yeah...why?"

 

"Anybody check the perimeter for cigarette stubs? Marlboro lights..."

 

Romero went for the door. "I'll check."

 

Satisfied to have that angle covered, MJ went into the bathroom. There wasn’t much, really. Somebody had washed their hands...

 

Frowning, MJ searched her memory. No prints anywhere, right?

 

"Hey, Dave? Do me a favor and dust the tap?"

 

"Sure...you think he took his gloves off?"

 

Shrugging, MJ leaned over the bathtub. "Possible. No idea why he would though."

 

"Could explain the blood stains I found on the sheets and carpet. Mostly smears on the bed, could be the girl gave as good as she got."

 

"Had to wash his face?" MJ left the bathroom and found the coroner who was bagging up the body. "Check under the fingernails, will you?"

 

"Always do." The young, entirely too innocent looking coroner said. 

 

"Thanks..."

 

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, MJ turned slowly, taking in every detail of the room - the drawn curtains, the tired wallpaper and the worn bedsheets.

 

A terrible dump.

 

The guy was probably chronically broke...or perhaps he just didn’t give a shit.

 

"Hey, boss?"

 

"Whatcha got, Romero?"

 

"Found some Marlboro stubs down in the parking lot."

 

Grinning victoriously, MJ followed him outside. "What did the clerk say?"

 

"No car, girl paid in cash...he didn’t even go inside."

 

"Smart bastard."

 

"Here," Romero stopped next to a dumpster and pointed at the cigarette ends. "Don’t get why he'd just stand there."

 

MJ stared at the ground for a moment then studied her surroundings. "Maybe he was too disoriented to get out of here...he always does this, has a smoke then leaves."

 

"You'd think he didn’t give a fuck about the no smoking sign."

 

"You'd think," MJ mumbled and stared across the parking lot. "That an ATM?"

 

"Sure looks like it. I'll get the pictures."

 

"Perfect. Listen, I'm gonna head off, see if I can pull a favor and get that autopsy done quick."

 

"Good luck..."

 

MJ gave the kid a smile and headed for her car. "Hey, Romero?"

 

"Yes, boss?"

 

"Keep it up, alright?"

 

"Got it, boss."

 

With one last look at her new partner, MJ got into her car.

 

...maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

 

***

 

MJ hadn’t returned that night, and when Saturday went by without even so much as a word from her, Helen began to seriously worry. What if she never came back?

 

Helen felt terribly maudlin that night. They had planned to spend it on the couch with a good movie and some popcorn but instead, Helen moped by herself. Had she truly driven her friend away? Perhaps she shouldn’t have kissed her. 

 

'I can’t', what did that even mean? 

 

Helen didn’t eat that night. She had looked in the fridge, past MJ's craft beer then directly at it. There were four left, MJ wasn’t much of a drinker, and Helen tried to tell herself that she could have only the one and then stop.

 

She watched the movie by herself and cried through most of it; not that she could remember what it was actually about. 

 

Sleepless and restless Helen listened to her police scanner and then just to the silence of the house before she gave in and laid down in MJ's bed. A terribly silly and immature thing to do, Helen knew that.

 

The clothes the inspector had worn still laid in a rumpled heap on the floor - MJ could be quite hazardous to the environment - Helen would take them to the dry cleaners for her, just in case she did come back. 

 

***

 

'I can’t' not 'I don’t want to.'

 

There was a difference, and that was the only reason Helen went to MJ's apartment and waited for her on the doorstep.

 

It was dark, so was the house, and Helen began to worry that MJ wouldn’t come home, that she had found somewhere else to stay. 

 

When she had waited for almost over an hour and began to feel edgy, Helen decided she would have to find a pay phone and call a cab. Getting up off the step and dusting off her pants, Helen wrapped her velvet blazer tighter around her body; it was getting cold and the breeze had picked up. 

 

With a heavy heart, she descended the steps, disappointed that she didn’t have the chance to make this right and worried that she might never find the courage again to do so. 

 

Just then MJ's car pulled up. 

 

Helen's heart jumped into her throat and she paused, frozen, watching the small inspector lock her car and then....spot her.

 

MJ didn’t look surprised but then she was rather adept at disguising such feelings.

 

"Hey," Helen greeted quietly as MJ brushed past her. "I heard you got another one?" She began with a safe topic and crime, ironically, was just that. "That Agent Purcell came by..."

 

"What did he want?" 

 

Helen watched as the door swung open and MJ went inside, not locking her out, not slamming the door in her face.

 

"He was looking for you. Everyone at the station thought you'd gone home...."

 

"Ah," MJ mumbled switching on a light then went about her usual routine and took off her gun, clipped to her skirt. "They thought I'd gone to your place..."

 

"It's your place too."

 

MJ just gave her that glowering look. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Helen came a bit closer. 

 

"I went to see Sandy, had dinner with her...I'm not sure how much longer we can keep her there, she'a gettinv antsy."

 

Helen nodded then remembered her excuse for coming here. "Agent Purcell dropped some paperwork off for you." She held up the manila folder. "I couldn’t tell him we had fight and you left...that would’ve kept the rumor mill going for at least another year."

 

Her attempt at humor failed miserably as MJ merely took the folder and dropped it on the couch without even looking at it. 

 

"I don’t wanna talk about it." MJ said flatly.

 

"Then listen." Helen looked at her friend with compassion in her eyes. MJ seemed more scared than angry which was perhaps a small blessing. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I am--"

 

"Helen..." MJ came closer; perhaps she saw the pain that Helen had endured for the past few days, perhaps she still felt for her friend, but something stopped her, whether it was the tears gathering in Helen's eyes or what happened the last time they got too close.

 

"Yes, I have feelings for you, and I'm sorry I crossed the line. I didn’t mean to upset you."

 

MJ didn’t meet her eye, she just nodded.

 

"I won’t mention it again...I just thought that you felt something for me as well...and I was wrong." Helen had promised herself not to cry but in that moment, when all her hope shattered, the humiliation made her weep. "I'm so sorry, MJ."

 

The inspector remained mute. 

 

Helen took that as her cue to leave - this wouldn’t be fixed tonight. "I better get going...um...I hope we can be friends again..?"

 

Still nothing, just silence.

 

"Okay..." Nodding to herself, Helen made to leave. She had made it to the front door when MJ grabbed her wrist so tightly it almost hurt. Looking down at the inspector, Helen realized the woman was shaking all over. She looked scared, utterly terrified, as she stood there, mute. 

 

Her MJ was a very brave cop but perhaps she wasn’t a very brave woman.

 

That made a change, Helen thought, looking into those big brown eyes filled with uncertainty; she was supposed to be the coward. Taking one last chance, Helen lowered her lips to MJ's once more. 

 

To hell with it...

 

This time she didn’t linger for long, it was just a sweet kiss. If MJ ran away again, Helen thought as she drew back, eyes closed, she wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

 

Blinking slowly, she was relieved to see that MJ was still there, and that the panic stricken expression that had clouded her features the last time, wasn’t there. 

 

She looked curious and Helen could tell there was an underlying passion, hiding in the recesses of MJ's buttoned up and put together persona. She looked incredibly stunning in that moment. 

 

"MJ...say something," Helen said again, knowing that this time was different, that this time MJ allowed herself to feel. 

 

The small woman came closer, her eyes drawn to Helen's lips, so close, she could feel MJ's warm breath. 

 

Then her body crashed into Helen's, petite as it was, and forced Helen against the door with a loud bang. She kissed like she spoke; with a lilt and a passion that made Helen's world spin every time. Soft lips, hungry and not gentle anymore at all. And she tasted good, and smelled just wonderful, delicate and no perfume. 

 

Helen wanted to die right there on the spot, waste away and melt into the floor. 

 

MJ's fists clutched her blouse and pressed her body so close, all of it, warm and lean and soft...womanly. Helen dared to reach for her then, touching her so carefully, and pulled the badge from MJ's skirt. It clattered to the floor.

 

MJ spared it a sidewards glance, as if it held no significance, then looked at Helen, her fingers working on a button and then another. Helen screwed her eyes shut and let her head fall back against the door. 

 

This was too much, and too soon...or wasn’t it? Helen couldn’t think as MJ's lips and teeth nipped at her neck with a greedy desire that was so unfamiliar to her, Helen didn’t know what to do with it. 

 

"Oh, god..." She whimpered as her blouse fell open and MJ pulled it out where it had been tucked into her pants. "Oh, Mary...Jane..." Was she about to faint? "Bed...where's your bedroom?" 

 

The inspector didn’t speak but merely pulled her away from the door, down the hall and to the left. They practically fell into the room, the wooden door banging against a dresser as it flew open. 

 

Helen groaned, alive and alight, pushing the dark blue blazer off MJ's shoulders, marveling at the bright white blouse that fit just so. She knew what was underneath and she longed to see it, fumbling with the buttons. 

 

She felt a bra strap and a delicate collar bone as MJ kissed her, warm fingertips digging into her waist. And oh, what was that? MJ's cuffs? Helen dropped them then they tumbled onto the bed. 

 

Her friend...her lover...felt so delicate beneath her, fragile, but Helen knew that MJ was anything but. The woman looked up at her, expectant, almost hopeful as Helen's thigh rested between hers.

 

"Helen," she said, drawl and all, "Don’t stop now."

 

Obviously she had never done this before, and neither had MJ but, and Helen felt quite emboldened by it, neither one of them gave a fuck. With an urgency that actually scared her, Helen grabbed the hem of the skirt, pulling it up rougher than she would have liked, and trailed her hand up MJ's thigh.

 

Helen had only ever seen it in movies, that passion that seemed to overtake everything. She loved this woman and how she could treat her this way was beyond her. Deep down she was a romantic and perhaps a bit old fashioned.

 

But deeper down she was, well, this.

 

She pulled MJ's underwear down, just enough, and shoved her hand into it, drawn to touch that most intimate place. She was warm and very soft and she seemed to want it just as much as Helen did.

 

"Oh, god," MJ whispered hoarsly, her touch turning painful as her fingernails dug into Helen's shoulderblades. 

 

And all of a sudden, Helen knew exactly what she was doing. MJ was wet, aroused by her, an intimate knowledge that sparked more bravery, more passion, and Helen was sure that if she touched just there--

 

"Oh, yes!"

 

\--and just like this--

 

"Oh, god..."

 

\--everything would be fine. 

 

"Ah, don’t stop, don’t stop..."

 

Helen had no intention of doing so, she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Bending down, Helen kissed her again; this time it was sloppy and hot, generous and all consuming, and Helen let her fingertips slide through the sticky mess that was MJ and then inside, deeply and hard. 

 

MJ tored her lips away and she looked as if she was about to scream but there wasn’t a sound, she even stopped breathing as her spine curved and they were belly against belly, MJ's subtle muscles straining against her soft skin.

 

Helen pressed her hand into the warmth harder than she ever thought she would. Did it hurt? Did it feel good? 

 

MJ just screwed her eyes shut as her hips moved, seemingly giving herself over, or being taken over, either or, Helen still marveled as her insides clutched at her fingers and the palm of her hand held the whole world in it as it shattered around MJ. 

 

***

 

Of course she knew what had just happened.

 

But really, what the hell did just happen?

 

MJ released a shuddering breath, fighting against the cotton wool in her head. That was amazing, she thought and wanted to laugh. 

 

"Oh, god..." She whispered more for her own benefit than anybody else’s and covered her eyes with her fingers. She could still feel Helen looming over her, studying her, and MJ felt the sudden urgent need to turn away and escape her gaze.

 

She had never been good at being vulnerable but recognized the fact that this was neither the time nor the place for hiding. Instead, she curled into Helen's body and buried her face in her warm chest. MJ held onto the woman then, her friend...Helen, breathing in the familiar scent of Chanel and drew her legs up. 

 

She could feel the dull ache between them, the pleasant sting of sex...no, of hurried, passionate love making.

 

She wouldn’t cheapen it. It had meant something. 

 

"It's okay," Helen said softly as her arms enfolded MJ in warmth, blanketing her in safety. 

 

The inspector realized she was crying, however, the reason escaped her. 

 

"It's alright," Helen vowed and kissed her hair, stroking it. 

 

MJ nodded - she knew that, of course but somehow, no longer afraid, MJ couldn’t grasp what it was she felt.

 

 

*****


	16. All In

 

 

Helen startled as she woke up in unfamiliar surroundings but then MJ's scent drifted around her, in the pillows and sheets, and she felt immediately at ease. Looking at the bedside tables she found the alarm clock. 

 

7:58.

 

"MJ?"

 

Had she left already? Maybe she had gone for a run?

 

Deciding not to worry too much, Helen buttoned up her blouse that was utterly wrinkled and stepped into the hallway. Opening the front door she realized that MJ had indeed gone - her car wasn’t there.

 

"Christ," Helen mumbled and began to gather her things, angry. 

 

Her mind reeled, going through all the possibilities - had MJ run off, scared again? Had she simply gone to work? Had she left early on purpose? Helen shook her head. No. MJ wouldnt do that to her again. She just wouldn’t. 

 

With that mindset, Helen called a cab. 

 

Twenty minutes, for god's sake, she thought as she stood in the kitchen, trying to find a decent cup for her undoubtedly horrendous coffee. MJ's house was an utter mish mash of things. She had about three or four SFPD cups and then a red one and one that said walmart. 

 

Rolling her eyes, Helen poured a cup and drank the coffee that she suddenly didn’t really want.

 

Hunting for her shoes, she returned to the bedroom. They were next to the bed in a heap. 

 

She had to get home. Really. 

 

Pouring the coffee down the drain in the bathroom and brushing her teeth with MJ's toothbrush - yes, she did that! - Helen took the cup with her. 

 

***

 

When Helen returned home for the second time, having gone out to drop some stuff off at the dry cleaners, her answering machine was flashing. 

 

Sighing, but at least feeling a bit more put together after having had a shower, Helen pressed the button.

 

"Hey, it's me," MJ's clipped voice came on. "Can you call me back when you get this? Thanks..."

 

Helen rolled her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day and picked up the phone. She had been on a roller coaster of emotions, and felt ridiculous for it. MJ was very busy and MJ wasn’t an asshole. 

 

"Inspector Monahan, please." Helen waited to be connected - she really ought to remember MJ's extension.

 

"Monahan."

 

"You called?"

 

The inspector's voice sounded hesitant and small...almost shy and it made Helen forget about everything and instead remember why she was so ridiculously in love in the first place.

 

"Could you come down to the station? We got some new information..."

 

"Of course," Helen agreed readily. "Do I need to bring anything?"

 

"Just that brain of yours."

 

She smiled and bit her lip coyly. "I'll be right there."

 

Hanging up, Helen groaned at herself. It should be easier now, not the opposite. 

 

***

 

"Any of your employees been to all three building sites?" MJ twirled her pencil around and around. "Yeah, I'll hold." It sounded silly, but her ear was starting to ache.

 

Hour three of the phone marathon and they had gotten nowhere. Catching Romero's eye, she mouthed the word 'donut'. She hadn’t eaten and that was all everyone ever brought in - no fancy pastry around here, no, sir. At least Reuben had smuggled in some danish on occasion but that was all a thing of the past. 

 

"Yes, I'm still here."

 

"I'm sorry but none have been to all three. Just San Francisco and San Diego."

 

"You're based in Phoenix?"

 

"Yes..."

 

"Can I have their names, please?"

 

Scribbling down all of five names, MJ took the donut that appeared right before her. "Thank you, for your help, ma'am." She slammed the phone down and rubbed her temples. Here goes nothing, MJ thought and picked up the donut.

 

"I wouldn’t eat that, if I were you."

 

"Christ!" MJ swore and swiveled around in her chair. Everyone was laughing as Helen loomed over her. 

 

"Gotcha!"

 

"If I'd spilled coffee you'd be in big trouble."

 

Helen smirked at her and put a big white box on the large conference table. "Promises, promises," she said coyly and took the lid off. "I went to the patisserie. Beats a donut, don’t you think?"

 

MJ swooned and grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on.

 

"Good to see you, Doctor H. How's the moonbike?"

 

"Don’t be an asshole, Pach or you’re not getting any of this," MJ groused but Helen seemed to be amused. 

 

"I parked it right next to your heap of shit," Helen said evenly, effectively silencing the room. Then she chuckled. "Have some pastry."

 

Pachulsky threw a paper ball at her and dug into the box. 

 

"Well, Inspector--"

 

"That's Sergeant Inspector to you," Jackson interrupted, biting into his treat.

 

"Would you do me a favor and shut up about it?" MJ shook her head - that stupid promotion gave her nothing but trouble. 

 

Helen just smiled at her, she seemed all aglow and the reason why brought a blush to MJ's face. 

 

"Well then, Sergeant Inspector Monahan, where's the new one?"

 

"Right this way, doc." MJ walked over to what Jackson called the murder board and pointed at a picture. "Jane Doe as of yet."

 

Helen looked at the picture contemplatively. "Pretty girl..."

 

"Shame we can’t ID her..." MJ picked up the case file; she had it memorized but it gave her a good reason not to look at Helen. "Strangled like the others."

 

"You could’ve woken me up this morning, you idiot."

 

MJ bit her lip and buried her face deeper in the case file. "Can we talk about this later?" She said quietly and cursed herself for blushing. 

 

Helen seemed unaffected. Of course, she had had the time to dwell on it whereas she herself had been taken by complete surprise. 

 

"That depends. Will you be home for dinner tonight."

 

"Yup."

 

"On time?"

 

"Now that I can’t promise."

 

"You’re terrible," Helen said evenly and smiled that new smile, soft and affectionate. "So. What’s this new information you were talking about on the phone?"

 

"Ah." MJ handed the file over. "Found something on the cigarettes. He must’ve stepped on them and left behind some residue."

 

"Of what?"

 

"Cement mix."

 

"Interesting. So you’re thinking construction?"

 

MJ nodded and watched Helen's sharp gaze trace over the murder board. "Who's this guy?"

 

The inspector took the grainy picture off the board. "That’s him. Got it off an ATM across the road. I know it's not much but we were able to extrapolate his height from it. He's about 5'9". Average build as you can see."

 

"What's that on his jacket?"

 

"Clothing label? Company name? Could be anything. I was gonna show it to Sandy, see if it triggers anything."

 

Helen nodded. "May I?" She took the file and began leafing through it. "He didn’t use a cigarette to burn her this time?"

 

"Just the lighter. The burns seem more severe..." MJ watched the doctor study every last detail with careful consideration - everything mattered, MJ had learned that much. 

 

"Adhesive residue around the mouth?"

 

"Yeah. Can’t have them scream the place down."

 

"Okay," Helen said with finality. "I've been working on a much more detailed profile...may I use the board?"

 

"Go ahead."

 

"Thank you." 

 

MJ leaned against the conference table, arms crossed and watched Helen work. 

 

"White male. 35 to 45 years old. It seems likely he lives in or around the Phoenix area."

 

"How come?"

 

"Most offenders commit their first crimes close to home, in their comfort zone then, in as a forensic counter measure, they move further and further away from it."

 

"We've been checking for similar crimes in that area."

 

"Might be worth looking into assaults and rapes as well, not necessarily prostitutes. Look for young girls. Attempted abductions..."

 

"Abductions?"

 

"He lacks the social skills to charm or lure his victims. That’s why he picks prostitutes. Because they will cooperate as long as he offers them money."

 

MJ nodded, pushing away from the table. "Romero? Call up PPD. Get them to fax every assault, rape, abduction over."

 

"Young girls," Helen said. "16 to 20 years old. Go back about 6 months."

 

"On it."

 

"I think he has a daughter that age. She's turning into a woman right before his eyes, he desires her yet knows that it's wrong so instead he rapes and tortures these girls and his attacks will become more violent as his appetite grows."

 

"Sick fuck," Pachulsky grumped.

 

"You have to understand, he has had these fantasies for a very long time, probably since adolescence. He has been replaying them over and over in his mind. They are perfect, down to the tiniest detail. There’s something about these girls that attracted him."

 

MJ looked at the photos. Pretty girls, all of them. 

 

"He wouldn’t pick them at random. He's probably out there right now, looking for the right one, the perfect one. It's like falling in love for him."

 

MJ bit her lip, looking at Helen from beneath her eyelashes. Before she could contemplate her feelings, the door flew open and Agent Purcell burst into the room.

 

"MJ! There’s an officer Keely on the phone for you. It's about Sandy. Line 3."

 

"Shit," MJ cursed and picked up the phone. "Monahan. Yep. Yep." Helen looked fear stricken as MJ glanced at her. "We'll be right there." Slamming the phone down, MJ rubbed her temples, avoiding the questioning gazes. "Sandy just walked into the precinct down in Tenderloin."

 

"What happened?" Helen asked, beating everybody else to it. 

 

"She saw him..."

 

***

 

Helen didn’t know why she had to come. All these places she had never dreamed of going - Tenderloin precinct hadn’t even crossed her mind - but MJ kept dragging her along. It was true, she had a rapport with the girl. It was all about earning her trust, about relating to her, to comfort her with hope and the promise of security.

 

They had sped down there, sirens blaring. Purcell had let her sit in the front; he was a sweet boy, smart and savvy, had gone to MIT, a product of an overbearing mother and absent father. 

 

They marched into the station together, all business.

 

"Andrea?" 

 

A blonde woman came towards them, severe expression on her face. "She's in the breakroom. C'mon." 

 

As they navigated the building, everybody was staring at them; they were quite the menagerie the three of them. A police inspector, an FBI agent and a psychiatrist, all there to see this little girl. Just another hooker. 

 

Sandy was sitting at a table, legs drawn up and smoking. Before her sat an untouched paper cup of coffee, opposite a middle aged, gray haired officer who tried to engage her in conversation.

 

"You Monahan?" He asked as he spotted them, abandoning his post.

 

"Yep. This is Doctor Hudson, and Agent Purcell." The small inspector glanced at her. "Helen."

 

Helen understood and went straight for the girl. "Sandy? Are you alright?"

 

She looked up, heartbreakingly sad, as tears streamed down her face. "It's alright now," Helen said and sat down right next to her. "No one can hurt you." Sandy fell into her arms and cried on her shoulder, entirely uncharacteristic for such an aloof girl. 

 

"Sandy? Hey..." MJ said tentatively. "Can you tell us what happened?"

 

The girl snivelled and wiped her eyes, lighting another cigarette. "I know I wasn’t supposed to but I went to my apartment, just to get some stuff and when I got there, he was in the parking lot."

 

"What was he doing?" Helen asked.

 

"I don't know." Sandy shrugged. "He was just sittin' in the car, eating a sandwich..."

 

"Are you sure it was him?"

 

"A thousand percent!"

 

"Did he see you?" MJ asked. 

 

"I think so...that’s why I ran away and got on the bus..."

 

"Smart girl. Hey, Purcell? Can you call Romero? Get him to pick Sandy's stuff up--"

 

"Wait a minute," Sandy interrupted. "Where am I s'posed to go?" 

 

"You're staying with us," Helen said before she could help herself then realized her faux pas. "My apartment," she corrected and glanced at MJ who looked a tad embarrassed. She hadn’t had a problem with it before, but now that they had actually slept together, things seemed to have changed for the inspector. 

 

"What about his car? You remember the make and model? Number plate?"

 

"Um..." Sandy sighed. "It was a truck...and it had like a tarp all over the back. Was quite dusty too. It was definitely black. And it had a logo on it...triangles or something."

 

"That’s great, Sandy. Just give us a moment, alright?"

 

Helen followed MJ, out of earshot, hoping the inspector wouldn’t complain about her executive decision. Perhaps it wasn’t the most prudent thing to do but Helen couldn’t shove the girl into yet another cheap motel room.

 

"Are you sure about this?"

 

"Of course," Helen said immediately. "I should’ve asked you first, I know--"

 

"It's okay. She can have my bedroom for now...I'll take the couch."

 

"Well," Helen said morosely. "I'm glad you’re not leaving."

 

MJ then did the unexpected and gripped her hand tightly for just the tiniest moment. "We'll talk. Promise."

 

Somewhat calmed by the gesture, Helen nodded. "Okay. Now what?"

 

"Now," MJ said, all business. "I'm going to Sandy's apartment. Somebody must’ve seen this guy."

 

 

*****


	17. Full House

 

 

"Are you hungry?"

 

Helen could tell that Sandy felt terribly out of place in the apartment. The girl had stopped in front of the two black and white paintings in the hall, studying them. 

 

"Do you like them?"

 

Sandy looked up at her with black rimmed eyes and smiled. "Yeah..."

 

"MJ hates them. She says they give her the creeps."

 

"That’s something, coming from a murder detective."

 

Helen smiled back at the girl. "I keep telling her the same thing." Taking the little leather satchel that Sandy kept her essentials in, Helen nodded down the hall. "Come, I'll show you where you'll sleep."

 

They entered MJ's room. It was tidy and neat for a change and Sandy tried the bed, bouncing on the mattress as she sat. 

 

"There's fresh towels and you can have a bath or shower if you like."

 

"Sounds good."

 

"I'll get started on dinner. Anything you don’t like?"

 

Sandy shrugged, preoccupied with the room. "I'm not particular."

 

"Okay," Helen smiled at the endearing drawl. "I'll be in the kitchen when you’re done."

 

"Sure..."

 

Closing the door on her way out, Helen trailed into the kitchen. It wasn’t long after that she heard the shower. Sandy was a lovely girl. She still refused to divulge any personal information, claiming she was 21 and quite happy with her situation. Helen could tell that she was neither.

 

17 perhaps? 

 

She had given it some thought since last week and maybe she could volunteer at a shelter...help girls like Sandy. After all, Helen didn’t have anything better to do with her life as it was. 

 

Maybe she would get a cat, too. 

 

If MJ liked them. 

 

That is, if MJ stayed. Whatever was happening between them, it had to wait until this was resolved. Perhaps that gave the inspector enough time to think.

 

With a wistful sigh Helen began her dinner preparations and listened out for Sandy, just in case the girl needed anything. It took her a while but Helen just assumed she took her time on purpose. 

 

Just when Helen put dinner in the oven, Sandy emerged in an oversized sweater and panties, cigarette in hand.

 

"Oh, no, you don’t!" Helen shooed the girl towards her sliding doors. "Out. I'm not having that stench in here."

 

"Alright, alright!" Sandy slinked outside onto the balcony. "Jeez..."

 

Shaking her head at the attitude, Helen poured a cup of coffee and joined the girl outside. The sun was just disappearing on the horizon, leaving the sea aglow and sparkling. 

 

"She coming back tonight?"

 

"Who? Inspector Monahan?"

 

Sandy nodded, biting her ruby red lips. "MJ..." She drawled.

 

"Yes, she'll be back late."

 

"Soooo," Sandy went on, nonchalant while looking out at the water. "You 'n her..." She blinked up at Helen. "You’re..."

 

"It's complicated," Helen interrupted the girl's flirty routine. 

 

"Thats what the guys usually say when they talk about their wives...but I know what they want, and I know what you want."

 

"Pray tell, what would that be?"

 

Sand turned around, leaning against the metal rail, blowing smoke. "You want her...just like they want me."

 

"That’s different," Helen said. "I love MJ, they don’t--" She stopped suddenly and couldn’t help but return Sandy's growing grin. "You smart little weasel, you got me."

 

Sandy snorted, apparently very amused. "So you love MJ, huh? She love you?"

 

"You tell me," Helen grumped. "Besides, it's not very nice to talk about somebody when they’re not actually in the room."

 

"That’s the best way to talk about anybody if you ask me but hey, suit yourself."

 

***

 

Even though it was perhaps a difficult feat to achieve, Helen listened to Rossini, quietly, in the living room over a good book. 

 

She had looked in on Sandy ten minutes ago and the girl had fallen asleep, tired and drained. 

 

When she finally heard the key in the door and the lock turn, Helen felt relieved - relieved not to be alone with the girl, solely responsible for her...relieved that MJ was home. 

 

The inspector trudged down the hallway, taking off her badge and cuffs. That’s when she spotted Helen in the dim light on the sofa.

 

"Hey."

 

Helen smiled at her coyly. "Hey."

 

"Didn’t think you'd still be up..."

 

Ordinarily she wouldn’t be but Helen had decided to wait up, see if there were any new developments...or so she liked to think. "Let me heat up dinner for you."

 

"I'm not hungry..."

 

"Please," Helen said gently. "Just do me this one little favor and have some mac and cheese."

 

MJ stopped short before her, cuffs and badge clattering onto the coffee table. She smiled that half smile that Helen loved so much and nodded. "Okay...okay..."

 

Satisfied, Helen went into the kitchen, microwaving MJ's food while the inspector sat at the counter, tired, rubbing her neck. 

 

Helen couldn’t help but watch her, a fleeting memory flashing before her eyes. Her gorgeous MJ, undone and beautiful, completely vulnerable and free. "You okay?"

 

"Just the shoulder," MJ said quietly. "Goes stiff sometimes."

 

Helen wondered if it would ever be 'as good as new' or if the wee inspector would have to suffer for her moment of bravery forever. Even though she wasn’t sure how her touch, or her intentions, would be perceived, Helen took off MJ's blazer and began a gentle massage. 

 

The inspector sighed contently, folding her arms on the counter and resting her hand upon them. 

 

"No one remembers the truck..."

 

"That’s unfortunate."

 

"We subpoenaed some camera footage...should get it in the morning..."

 

Helen said nothing but instead swept MJ's plait to one side and carefully massaged the shoulder. MJ remained still, not fighting it; she even closed her eyes. 

 

"Slow," MJ said after a while, so quietly Helen barely heard it. "Can we go slow?"

 

"Of course..."

 

"I'm...scared. I've never felt that way before."

 

Helen took a deep breath and held it. "But you feel something..?"

 

"Course I do," MJ insisted immediately, sitting up. "I do."

 

"Well...I'm glad," Helen smiled, bashful. "C'mon...have some of this..." Abandoning her massage, Helen got the plate out of the microwave and stuck a fork in it. MJ did her duty then and ate, picking at the pasta with little appetite...just to placate her, Helen knew that.

 

Touched, the doctor leaned against the counter in her satin slip and robe, and just watched for a moment. "I'm glad you came home, MJ."

 

"I know..."

 

"Good. Now take off that hideous thing."

 

MJ smirked and pulled her gun from her holster. 

 

"You better hide that though...Sandy is sleeping in your room."

 

"Mind if I take a shower first? I feel grimy..."

 

"Of course..." Helen pulled the inspector to her feet. "And don't forget that thing."

 

***

 

MJ stood under the hot spray for far too long. She screwed her eyes shut as tightly as she could against the onslaught of images, against the horrific reality of her life. MJ couldn’t remember when she had chosen this, not that it mattered now anyway.

 

She saw people on the worst day of their lives; whether dead or alive didn’t make a difference. 

 

And all those poor families...

 

MJ's mind went back to Sunday's Jane Doe; a young girl in a dirty motel room. Was her family missing her? Would they ever know what happened to her? Would they care?

 

MJ wouldn’t stop looking, that was for sure. 

 

Beyond all the ugliness, all the awful, hopeless everyday truth of her life, there was Helen, sleeping peacefully. MJ watched from the doorway as the woman's chest rose and fell. 

 

She had left the beside lamp on and her glasses were perched on her nose, book abandoned on her chest. She looked serene and lovely, MJ's one constant that wasn’t tainted. Would it really be so bad to give into it and have it, that peaceful place? That no worries, no fear moment of utter happiness and belonging?

 

To contemplate it all seemed too big a task for MJ, at least for tonight. Relenting, the inspector slipped beneath the covers and laid her head onto the pillow, watching. 

 

She didn’t know how long she laid there or what thoughts went through her head while she stared at Helen's sleeping form, but the calm that washed over her gave MJ all the answers she needed, at least for tonight. Carefully she pulled the book out of Helen's limp grasp - Walt Whitman - and set it down quietly on the bedside table.

 

Helen didn’t seem to notice...she just slept.

 

Then MJ took her glasses, the round ones, and placed them atop the book. 

 

She was hellishly smart, MJ thought and reached out tentatively, touching Helen's pronounced jaw. Her skin was very soft, and she looked so innocent but MJ knew there was more beneath all of it. Such passion...

 

The inspector's gaze trailed lower to the swell of Helen's breasts, and for a moment she felt guilty for it. She had seen more than that, of course, when they had fallen into bed together.

 

It had come as an utter surprise. How stupid. Especially since Helen had known all along.

 

Sighing, MJ bit her lip, her fingertips tracing Helen's collar bone. So delicate. MJ blinked; how could she not have known? She supposed, somewhere deep down she must have realized. What they had been doing was plainly obvious now. All that flirting, all that closeness, all those dinners and movie nights and talks and midnight sharing. 

 

All that intimacy...

 

Stupid, really.

 

Yet she had never felt anything like this before. A woman. And of course it had to be Helen Hudson. MJ couldn’t fathom what that would mean for her life. Not yet. 

 

Perhaps it was inappropriate but MJ had to know, and so she let her fingertips wander further, gliding gently along the curve of Helen's breast. She was so soft and untainted. Pliant. The mere touch made MJ's heart beat faster with excitement. 

 

Moving the blanket just a little, MJ could see more. 

 

Helen's breasts were small and fell quite naturally beneath the silky material. They were subtly rounded and just so. Womanly and inviting. She was slender but not lean like MJ. The inspector felt quite boyish sometimes - that’s why she liked skirts, to emphasize that she wasn’t but on occasion that suited her just as well, especially amongst all the boys at the precinct.

 

Breathing out quietly to release some of the pent up energy she began to feel, MJ stared at the barely there outline of a nipple. The urge to touch it was overwhelming and so she didn’t fight it. Carefully she let the very tips of her fingers trace it. 

 

The nipple hardened beneath her touch and the effect was nearly instantaneous. MJ felt that fire in her belly again, hot and irresistible, just like last time. Her eyes darted to Helen's face as the doctor sighed. She was awake, MJ could tell, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown. 

 

Biting her lip, the inspector traced the outline of the whole breast, and she felt herself shake ever so slightly with excitement or was it fear? Perhaps both. Her palm flat against Helen's body, she trailed down her stomach and hip, then her thigh.

 

The silk slip had ridden up a bit and MJ marvelled at the soft texture of Helen's skin, warm as it was and riddled with goosebumps.

 

Helen sighed then, and said, breathily, "Mary Jane..." It was the sexiest thing MJ had ever heard. "We won’t be going slow if you keep doing that."

 

Of course she knew that, and she really should listen to Helen, but naturally MJ didn’t. Instead she scooted closer until she could feel the warmth of Helen's body against her own. The doctor's eyes flew open, startled at the realization that things were perhaps about to change yet said nothing.

 

"I've been thinking," MJ said quietly, looking down at Helen. "What happened the other night was...beautiful." She saw Helen's eyes widen at the admission and smiled a little, gently tracing a path along the soft skin. "Honestly...I've got very few beautiful things in my life. And all I've seen for weeks is ugliness."

 

"Oh, MJ..."

 

She could see a hint of a tear glistening in Helen's eye as her gaze softened and her warm hands touched her. 

 

"I don’t wanna wait for all these beautiful things to happen...I wanna make them happen."

 

"Keep talking and you won’t even have to touch me...I'll just melt," Helen let out a little laughed, she looked coy and shy, almost endearing. 

 

"I don’t know when I'll be ready but I know I want this to happen." MJ sat up and pulled her tank top off without giving it any more thought. Helen just stared at her, eyes wide and sparkling. Then she followrd MJ's lead with almost comical speed.

 

The satiny slip came off and landed on the floor next to the bed. Helen was naked underneath and she didn’t seem to feel any shame or discomfort. MJ reached out and brushed a lock of hair away; it was quite persistent, that one. 

 

Helen seemed to just study her then she felt her hands on her waist, gently caressing. "You’re so beautiful."

 

MJ swallowed as their eyes connected and Helen pushed her underwear over her hips and down. She knew exactly what she wanted and what she was doing, and MJ felt a sort of relief. Of course, she knew how this worked, that it would work, her embarrassingly short stamina the other night had proven that.

 

"I'll tell you what feels good, promise."

 

Helen could read her like an open book; MJ smiled and averted her gaze - that’s how it was supposed to be, wasn’t it? 

 

Leaning over Helen and kicking her underwear off, MJ lowered herself onto the other woman carefully, revelling in every inch of soft skin against her own. Helen stared up at her, legs intertwined, breasts against breasts and caressed her back with her fingertips, nails tickling. 

 

"That feels good," the doctor said with a slight grin. "Very good, in fact."

 

"Helen? Stop talking, will you?"

 

"Hmm," she hummed and tilted her head upwards. "You better kiss me then..."

 

Challenge accepted, MJ bent down and kissed her, slowly at first. Her whole body seemed to give up on her then, flooding with adrenalin, shaking and tingly, and in the pit of her stomach she could feel butterflies. MJ's heart warmed...it felt so right and terribly good. What a relief. 

 

As she felt Helen's tongue against her own and her fingers thread through her hair, MJ gave up on thought and decided to trust Helen to guide her. Emboldened by the intimate kiss, MJ trailed her hand down the slender body; she really wanted to touch Helen's breasts. She had never touched anyone else’s before but when she did, when MJ's palm cupped it, she felt elated. 

 

Helen felt ever so soft and pliant, except for her nipple which stiffened and pebbled to a hard peak in her hand. MJ traced it, mapped it gently, and listened to all those little sounds that escaped Helen's lips. 

 

"I'm not going to break," the doctor said huskily against her lips. "Touch me, MJ...I need you to."

 

The inspector squeezed the breast, squeezed the nipple and watched in rapt fascination as the emotions played over Helen's features. The almost painful desire Helen had for her was plainly obvious then and MJ wondered for how long the woman had felt this way.

 

Helen pressed herself into her hand, back curved, asking for more and drew her leg up a little. MJ's thigh fell into place, resting against warmth and wetness. She couldn't believe how aroused the woman was and that she had done this, all of it!

 

Biting her lip so hard it hurt, MJ pushed her thigh against the woman.

 

"Oh, god," Helen whimpered and then met her thrust with equal force. 

 

It was beautiful, utterly breathtaking as the woman's lips parted and a moan escaped. 

 

"MJ..."

 

She really wanted to take her time but found it increasingly difficult to resist her curiosity and her own desire. MJ realized that she was just as aroused, pressing against Helen's thigh with desperation. Running out of breath and coherent thought, MJ reached down and found that warm place with the tips of her fingers.

 

She was so wet. "Oh, god," MJ groaned. And she was hot and sticky and all those other things men had whispered in her ear before. 

 

_Fuck._

 

Helen liked to scratch, apparently, her short fingernails marring MJ's back, clutching at skin every time MJ merely moved. It was sexy, oh god, was it ever! Nails raking over her back, right down to her ass, digging into her skin with seemingly little care, MJ realized that Helen wanted her to feel her own pleasure just as much.

 

Humming at the firmer contact, the soft skin pressed between her own thighs, MJ gave in and let her hips move. 

 

The funny part was, and MJ could have laughed hysterically in that moment, touching her friend this way, and being touched by her, didn’t feel strange at all. 

 

The opposite, really. 

 

_Christ._

 

With a more than confident touch, MJ trailed her fingertips downward and then inside, into such heat she thought she would burn. 

 

"Oh, god...MJ..." Helen's voice had taken on a high pitch and her eyes were screwed shut tightly when MJ looked at her, and that damned lock of hair had fallen into her face again. "Please..."

 

MJ stared, she couldn’t avert her gaze; hell, she couldn’t even blink, unwilling to miss out on anything. 

 

"Please." Helen panted and let her thigh fall open a bit more. 

 

Unable to bear it any longer, MJ did what she knew she liked and pressed her palm tightly against the woman, letting her move against it just how she needed it. 

 

Her head thrown back in pleasure, Helen looked about the sexiest, most arousing thing MJ had ever seen. Her eyes glued to the contorted features, MJ bent down again and kissed and nipped along the strong jaw, tasting the glistening sheen of sweat with hungry lips and an appetite MJ wasn’t sure she could ever satisfy.

 

"Yes," Helen hissed. "Oh, yes..." 

 

She wouldn’t last for much longer, MJ could tell by the way Helen wrapped herself around her so tightly there was barely any room to move, let alone breathe, and she could feel it against her hand and around her fingers. 

 

"Mary Jane," Helen keened into her ear, face buried in her neck. "Oh, god, oh god, MJ..."

 

She wasn’t sure at first but then she felt it, the muscles contracting around her fingers and the sharp pain of nails digging into her shoulder blades. It was indeed that - an orgasm - and Helen cried her pleasure into her shoulder. 

 

When it was over and Helen didn’t move, MJ just held onto her, limbs still tangled, and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the other woman, her shampoo and her perfume and the pleasant smell of perspiration. 

 

Helen relaxed after a while, her muscles releasing MJ's digits and she laid down and winced as MJ removed them. 

 

Then Helen chuckled.

 

"What?"

 

She giggled like a school girl. "That was amazing." Composing herself somewhat, Helen bit her lip, a guilty yet mischievous expression crossing her features. "I'm sorry..." Her fingertips traced what MJ knew to be a red, angry mark. 

 

"You coulda warned me."

 

"Do you mind?"

 

MJ propped herself up on her elbow and shook her head. "Nah..."

 

Helen seemed to study her, what she was looking for MJ didn't know. She wasn’t hiding, everything was as it was, plain and simple, no regrets. Helen kissed her then, with renewed passion it seemed and pushed her back. 

 

"Let me take care of you," she whispered and MJ felt suddenly shy as she sat upright, sheets pooled at her hips. "Come here."

 

Helen pulled her close, across her lap, one arm around her waist, and entered her. There was no preamble, no setting the mood, none of that, just sex. Groaning at the welcomed intrusion, MJ let her head drop back, exposing herself to Helen's eyes and lips.

 

The doctor roamed across her chest, mouth engulfing her nipple and pulled her against her hand. 

 

She wanted to draw it out yet MJ found herself unable to again. Seeing, feeling and hearing Helen come in her arms, never-mind the utterly arousing endless minutes before that, had MJ unable to control her desires. She draped her arms around Helen's neck and buried her face in her shoulder while her hips seemed to move faster all on their own.

 

Patience running thin, and too aroused to even think about it, MJ reached down and touched herself. 

 

Helen didn’t seem fazed by it, on the contrary. "MJ...god, MJ..." She slipped deeper into her, so deep it nearly hurt, while MJ bit her shoulder to contain a scream as her orgasm washed over her.

 

Panting, MJ felt slight disappointment at the fact that she had come already but the satisfied warmth in her belly comforted her even through that. Prying her hand away from herself with a tad of embarrassment, MJ kissed her way to Helen's lips. 

 

Helen pulled out of her as they kissed and her fingers felt wet and hot against MJ's thigh, resting there gently. 

 

"I can’t believe you did that," Helen said, awed.

 

"Not a habit of mine," MJ murmured, returning to her resting place against Helen's shoulder. "Neither is crying afterward."

 

"That was an emotionally charged situation--"

 

The inspector clamped her fingers over Helen's mouth and glared at her from beneath her eyelashes. "Do you ever shut up?"

 

"Never."

 

MJ smiled and pushed Helen back onto the mattress, her long hair tickling across the doctor's face. Helen brushed it aside and cupped her cheek.

 

Then they were kissing again. 

 

***

 

MJ knew her hair was a mess, and she would have to shower again in the morning. None of it mattered much though as she laid on her stomach and Helen was tracing her spine with her fingertips. 

 

"I really am sorry..." She was talking about the scratches again. "I think I got a little carried away."

 

"Hmm," MJ hummed and closed her eyes. "I liked it."

 

"Of course you did." 

 

MJ let the comment slide and reached for Helen as the other woman laid down beside her. 

 

"You okay?"

 

"Yeah..."

 

"Sure?"

 

Opening her eyes again, MJ nodded. "I'm okay." She felt very contend in fact. Humming tiredly MJ closed her eyes again. "You been with many women before?"

 

She felt Helen exhale and her caresses stop. "Only the one."

 

"Who was she?"

 

"MJ Monahan..."

 

Frowning, MJ buried her face in the pillow. "Why didn’t you say?"

 

"And what? Have you think that neither one of us knew what they were doing?"

 

"You gotta stop analyzing everything..."

 

The caresses continued. "I'm afraid I can’t help that." She felt Helen's intense gaze on her for an endless moment then, "Sleep?"

 

"Uh huh..."

 

Helen switched the light off and pulled the sheets over them both. "Good night..."

 

"Night," MJ mumbled, unbelievably tired and weary of what tomorrow would bring. She tried not to think about it, instead remaining in her bubble and leave all her worries out of it. 

 

Laying there, naked and spent, MJ began to realize that nothing much had changed. She still had her best friend. They were still teasing back and forth. They were still the same...just closer. 

 

_More._

 

She knew that once she returned to reality, there would be consequences and changes and difficult decisions but all of that could wait until morning. 

 

 

*****

 


	18. Triangle

 

 

Helen woke to the sound of a running shower. Prying her eyes open she found herself alone in bed. The spot where MJ had slept was still warm and her scent lingered in the sheets.

 

Helen wanted to groan but curled herself into a tight ball instead. Last night, she swooned, had been amazing! MJ had been amazing. 

 

This time she did groan. 

 

With a sigh she rolled out of bed, abandoning the childish notion that everything was perfect and rosy; they hadn’t even talked! And sleeping together certainly wasn’t the solution to everything. Quite the opposite. It seemed MJ still didn’t know what she wanted or at least what she felt.

 

She was a good catholic girl, buttoned up and maybe a little old fashioned even. 

 

Helen rubbed her eyes tiredly then put on the satin slip she had so carelessly divested of last night and grabbed her robe. Creeping down the stairs Helen stared at the unoccupied sofa and decided to leave it made up, just in case MJ needed her space and perhaps a bit of distance tonight.

 

In the kitchen she started on the coffee and checked on Sandy. The girl was wrapped tightly in the sheets, dreaming of better times and better places.

 

Helen sat at the kitchen counter for a while, glasses perched on her nose and read the newspaper. The inconsequential drivel didn’t do anything to distract her and neither did the coffee. That’s how MJ found her eventually; hunched over the culture section. 

 

"Hey..."

 

The inspector's voice sounded rougher in the mornings but never unpleasant and despite her initial worries, Helen gave her a bright smile...as if nothing was the matter. "Morning." She held up the newspaper. "Salvador is in the paper again. He sent me an invite, we should go."

 

MJ shrugged. "I don't know the first thing about art."

 

"You can be my student."

 

Snorting, MJ poured a cup of coffee and sat next to her, fully dressed and buttoned up to the very top. Helen glared at the blouse then took off her glasses. "So, what’s next? You said you had some footage to go over?"

 

"Yeah. See if we got an angle on the truck."

 

Helen smiled ruefully, abandoning the paper. "This could be it?"

 

"Could be..."

 

"Then why the long face?"

 

MJ shrugged. "This investigation is a mess. All the detective work and all the profiling didn’t get us anything, instead we got a girl solving it for us. Plus, he could just up and leave and we wouldn’t know anything."

 

"You did some great work on this, MJ. Without you there wouldn’t be a case."

 

"Eh," the inspector grumped and slid off her chair. She grabbed the cereal bar Helen insisted she take every day and shoved it into her pocket. "I gotta go."

 

"Okay. Here," Helen couldn’t help but unbutton the blouse, just the top one, and smiled down at the inspector. "Much better."

 

MJ just rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter as Helen straightened her collar. 

 

Looking into the warm big brown eyes, Helen felt like crying with joy and smiled coyly as a blush spread over her features. "I love you, you know..."

 

MJ nodded. "I know."

 

"Don’t feel bad," Helen ordered firmly. "I just wanted to make sure you do."

 

The inspector worried her bottom lip then, as if she didn’t mean to, stood on her tiptoes and kissed her. MJ pushed her away after only a moment, turning away, embarrassed, but before Helen could even think of a possible reason for it, she heard the familiar southern drawl from behind.

 

"Don’t stop on my account. There ain’t enough love goin' round this place as it is."

 

Helen snorted. "Good morning to you too. There’s coffee, I'll get breakfast ready in a bit."

 

"I don’t do breakfast..."

 

"Not another one," Helen groused and turned to MJ. Her smile fell immediately as the inspector brushed past them both with an unreadable expression on her face. 

 

Then the front door slammed. 

 

Helen blinked then looked at Sandy who just shrugged.

 

"Christ," she drawled, "You've got your work cut out for ya with that one." The girl picked up her cup. "I'm going for a smoke..."

 

 

***

 

"I got it! I fucking got it!" 

 

The overcrowded room went silent as Romero made his way to the very front and held up a piece of paper next to the blown up, blurry picture of the truck. 

 

That was indeed it. MJ ripped the piece of paper out of his hand, staring at the logo, baffled. "Purcell! Phoenix 757 872! Trinity construction!"

 

The FBI agent picked up the phone and dialled. 

 

MJ paced. 

 

"Good morning. This is Craig Purcell from Purcell building supplies. Uh, I've got a problem with your site in San Francisco..."

 

MJ breathed out slowly as everyone seemed to gather around the young FBI agent.

 

"Which one? Uh...the thing is, I'm not entirely sure. I'm supposed to drop some material but uh there's no address on the fax."

 

This promotion was putting more pressure on her than she needed at the moment - paper work, mostly, but everyone was scrutinizing her. People around here waited for her to trip up while the brass wanted her to do anything but.

 

"Can we not call Don? To be honest with you, we had somewhat of a heated discussion a few weeks back and I'd rather just...you know...oh, thank you! You’re the best!" 

 

Purcell hung up. "Got 'em! Three building sites."

 

MJ took the scrap of paper and went to the map hanging on the board. "Okay...we got one on the Great Highway near the park. Jackson, Romero, you got this?"

 

"Sure, boss."

 

"Another one out in Daly City off the 280. Pach."

 

"Aww, man!"

 

"Call up the local police. Coordinate and cooperate."

 

"Alright, alright, I got it."

 

"Last one." MJ pointed at the map. "Fort Mason--" The inspector stared at the paper. "For Christ's sakes."

 

"Hey, isn’t that where you and that broad live?" Pachulsky supplied helpfully. "You know, the fancy place."

 

Glowering, MJ rubbed her forehead. 

 

"You coulda been driving past the guy for weeks!"

 

"Would you shut up?" MJ looked back at the map. "They’re at the Aquatics Park Pier. Purcell, you’re with me on this." Pulling herself together somewhat, MJ faced the crowd. "Okay, here's how we're gonna do this: we're gonna hit all three at the same time. We gotta keep the element of surprise on our side. Everyone familiarize themselves with the sketch and description of the guy: 5'9", medium build, dark brown hair, scar across the nose."

 

Hands on her hips, MJ paced the room. "Let's get some uniforms together and get ready for this thing. I want everybody in position by 3 o'clock."

 

***

 

MJ looked around the bustling bullpen and listened to the answer phone with mild annoyance. Call number four and still no one was picking up. 

 

"Hey, it's me," she said quietly, not wanting to be overheard. "When you get home, can you stay there? I don’t want you and Sandy going anywhere today." 

 

Hanging up, MJ startled as Purcell appeared beside her. "You ready?" He asked.

 

The inspector breathed in as deeply as she could while wearing her vest. It had saved her life the last time, standing between Peter Foley and certain death. She made to close the very top button of her blouse then decided not to after all, thinking of Helen. 

 

MJ desperately hoped she just wasn’t picking up the phone, angry at her for how she had left that morning. 

 

"Yeah, let's go."

 

MJ drove, she knew the way. If she had gone right instead of left  on her way to work, she might have seen him; ironic really, that he could’ve been there all along though, MJ hoped, she didn’t find him there. Maybe Pachulsky would pick him up, that wouldn’t be right on her doorstep.

 

"Hey, Monahan?"

 

She glanced at her passenger, Purcell.

 

"Maybe, when this is all over...could you put a word in with Helen?"

 

Christ, MJ wanted to swear. Of all the places? Really? "What is it with you guys lately?" First her own psychiatrist and now him. 

 

"What did I say?"

 

"Aren’t you a little young for her?" 

 

Purcell just shrugged then needled her with his blue eyed gaze. Shaking her head at the utter jealousy she felt in that moment, the ridiculous notion of possession, MJ began to feel like an idiot. Of course she'd want to strangle him. Sure. 

 

Typical. 

 

She had been such a coward this morning, and after what Helen had said, that she loved her, she had been an ass and had left. 

 

"Aww, shit."

 

Glancing at Purcell again, frowning, MJ gave him a hard look. 

 

"Man, I'm such a dick."

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"I heard the rumors and I thought it was all bullshit. I mean, Helen said you were friends when we first met--"

 

"Aww, Christ," MJ rolled her eyes. "Just get a grip."

 

Purcell looked at her again then shrugged. "Sorry."

 

"We were just friends," MJ said quietly, feeling like she owed him something. 

 

"But now you’re not?"

 

With a pointed look, she shook her head. "Now it's..."

 

"Complicated?"

 

"Maybe, I dunno. Look, can we not talk about this thing when we're on the job?"

 

"Over dinner then? I heard you guys host the best dinner parties..."

 

'You guys', the phrase stuck with MJ. An item. A one. "Another rumor?"

 

"Helen," Purcell said with a grin. "She thinks you’re the next Michelin chef. So, how about it?"

 

Groaning, MJ pulled up near the building site. "Tell you what. If the guy's here, you’re coming to dinner next week. If not, you get off my case."

 

Purcell grinned at her boyishly. "Got yourself a deal."

 

Rolling her eyes, MJ picked up her radio. "HI7 Monahan in position. What’s your status, HI9?"

 

"In position," Romero said.

 

"HI3, what’s your status?"

 

"In position, Monahan. All ready to roll."

 

MJ checked her mirrors then looked at Purcell who was scoping the place out with his binoculars. "Two minutes, everyone. Alpha team switch to channel 025."

 

Sighing, MJ leaned back in her seat and said a silent prayer. 

 

_Keep us all safe, all the officers, Pach, Jackson, Romero and Purcell. Keep the man we're looking for safe. And Helen...and Sandy. Amen._

 

She touched the chain around her neck and got out of the car. Armed with the sketch and her radio, she advanced on the building site, the full force of ten police officers behind her. They were spotted almost immediately by several individuals but no one seemed to act out of the ordinary.

 

"Can I help you?" A man came towards them, glaring. He must be the supervisor, MJ thought, as he stopped in front of them.

 

"Seen this guy?"

 

He looked at the sketch with narrowed eyes. "Nah."

 

"Look again." 

 

He didn’t seem to want to but did as he was told. "Ahh...you know, that looks like Gary."

 

"Gary who?"

 

"Warren. He's got a scar just like it. What’s this about?"

 

MJ snatched the sketch back and stuffed it into her pocket. "Where can we find Gary?"

 

"He's mixing cement. But hey, you can’t go in there, this is a building site, we've got safety regulations--"

 

“And we’ve got a warrant,” MJ said and marched ahead, signalling the officers in the right directions. She spotted the cement mixer and then she spotted him. It always startled her, every time, how ordinary they were. He was just your regular guy. He was smoking a cigarette while talking to another guy, laughing, maybe even cracking a joke. 

 

He saw her then. Looked straight at her even. 

 

I'm coming for you, MJ thought, returning his stare with the same intensity, marching on undeterred. He realized what was coming, saw his impending demise reflected in her eyes.

 

MJ loved that moment, lived for it, when everything fell into place and the righteous, unrelenting truth came down upon them with such fury, it hit them like a ton a of bricks.

 

His face contorted in fear briefly then he ran. 

 

"Go! Go! Go!" MJ pulled her gun out of her holster and chased after him. "Police! Stop!" The inspector flew into the unfinished building, uniforms bursting through the plastic sheets all over. "Suspect in pursuit!" Somebody yelled in the distance and then MJ lost sight of him.

 

"Fuck," she mouthed and slowed down, taking every corner very deliberate. Behind her she could feel Purcell's presence, hesitant and unexperienced perhaps, but two guns were better than one. 

 

There was a loud thud ahead and MJ glanced back at her partner - that way!

 

Something came flying right at her through a plastic sheet, whizzing for her head. MJ barely registered the pain yet hissed at the unexpected contact. "Shit," she whispered and kicked the piece of wood out of her way. Heart pounding right out of her chest, the inspector inched closer, taking a deep breath before pulling the sheet aside. 

 

Nothing. Creeping forward, Purcell right behind her, MJ heard yet another commotion. 

 

Rounding the corner, they came face to face with him. Arm raised, a two by four in his hand, standing over Sullivan. 

 

"Hey!" MJ didn’t think, she just looked into his eyes and she knew, just as clearly as he did. 

 

She pulled the trigger and hit him straight in the shoulder. MJ was still an excellent shot, so this one hit home too. The wood clattered to the floor and Gary, that was his name, wasn’t it? Gary fell over the edge. 

 

"No!"

 

Running, they reached the officer. 

 

"I've got a pulse," Purcell said while MJ looked over the edge and into the water. 

 

He was alive, he must be, she thought and took off her jacket and shoes. 

 

"MJ!" Purcell yelled before she went over and into the cold water. 

 

It took her breath away for a moment and scared her half to death when there was no air in her lungs but she could see him amongst a cloud of blood and waves. 

 

Then there was another splash and MJ surfaced.

 

 

*****


	19. Full Circle

 

 

Helen stood over her police scanner, pacing unruly in front of it. Sandy just sat on the sofa, where MJ was supposed to sleep, channel surfing and chewing gum as if her day was just as ordinary as the other. 

 

There was a loud knock on the door and for a moment Helen thought it was MJ. But MJ had a key of course.

 

Opening the door with unnecessary force, Helen came face to face with Romero who looked about ready to throw up. 

 

"Franco. What are you doing here?"

 

"Doctor Hudson..."

 

"You got the guy, didn’t you?"

 

"We did...but, how do you know?"

 

"I heard it on my scanner." He looked decidedly uncomfortable which only made Helen worry more. Opening the door fully, the doctor prepared herself for the worst. "What’s going on?"

 

"It's about MJ, I mean, Inspector Monahan."

 

Helen felt her hand tremble. "...what about MJ? Is she hurt? There was an officer down, wasn’t there? I heard her voice though--"

 

"Oh, no! Nah, MJ's fine. She's at the hospital--"

 

"Hospital?" Helen screeched and pulled Franco inside.

 

"She got wet, she asked me to get some clothes..."

 

"Wet?" Helen felt thoroughly confused. "I'll get her things and I'm coming with you."

 

"Oh, that’s fine," he said quickly and followed her into the apartment, the door falling shut behind him. "She just needs some clothes."

 

"She told you not to bring me, didn’t she?"

 

Franco buried his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "She scares me."

 

Snorting and thoroughly amused, Helen entered MJ's room. "Well, she doesn’t scare me so I'm coming, whether she likes it or not." She pulled MJ's gym bag out from under the bed and gathered her clothes; her navy skirt and blazer and the red blouse Helen loved so much.

 

"How wet did she get?"

 

"Uh," Romero shrugged in the doorway. "She took a dive in the ocean?"

 

"Christ, MJ," Helen muttered and raided the underwear drawer. Functional, she reminded herself and put everything in the bag. As an afterthought she packed a hairbrush.

 

"I'm ready," Helen announced. "Sandy? I won’t be long."

 

"Okay...later..."

 

***

 

The waiting area was bustling. Pachulsky was there, stuffing a donut in his face, Jackson stood and sipped coffee, animatedly conversing with a beat cop. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. 

 

Franco hadn’t said much, quite obviously under strict instructions not to, but he had tried to placate her with details about Gary Warren...that was his name.

 

Apparently he had been shot and was in surgery. 

 

Pachulsky burst out laughing as he saw the pair. "She's gonna have you for breakfast!" He boomed around a mouthful of donut.

 

"Cut him some slack, Pach," Helen said. "I'm scarier."

 

The inspector chuckled and wiped his hands on a napkin. "Doctor H..."

 

They had come to somewhat of an understanding - teasing was still permitted. Some people thought they truly hated one another. 

 

"Where is she?"

 

Pachulsky nodded down the corridor. "That way."

 

Helen followed behind him to an examination room. MJ sat on a gurney, a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "Thanks, Pach."

 

He merely inclined his head and left down the hallway. Sighing, Helen approached the shivering woman.

 

"So what’s the damage?"

 

MJ groaned as soon as she spotted Helen. "I don’t know why I even bothered." As the inspector shook her head, Helen spotted it. The bruise forming just above her eyebrow and the taped cut. 

 

"What the hell happened?" She had vowed not to overreact but well, here she was.

 

MJ just shrugged. "He tossed a two by four at me, can you believe it?"

 

"And you ended up in the ocean how?"

 

"Long story," the inspector said and slumped a little. "I shot him." MJ said evenly.

 

"He'll be fine..."

 

"I know...just not the way I wanted this to end."

 

Sighing at MJ's apparent melancholy, Helen sat down on the gurney beside her. "I've got your clothes..."

 

The inspector nodded mutely and pulled on the hideous looking hospital gown. "Thanks."

 

"When will they let you out of here?"

 

"Soon. Still waiting on the CAT scan and the x-rays. Nothing wrong with my head," MJ groused. "Just my shoulder I'm worried about."

 

"Your shoulder?" Helen felt slightly alarmed at the news; MJ had only just recovered from the gun shot wound and still suffered from it. Pulling the gown down carefully, it revealed a large, purple bruise - two by four shaped, of course. "Shit," Helen said uncharacteristically. 

 

"Tell me about it." MJ rubbed her neck - the tell tale sign. "You got my messages?"

 

"I did."

 

"Where were you? I called four times."

 

Helen smirked. "I picked up your dry cleaning. What did you think? That I wasn’t picking up because I was angry at you?"

 

MJ groaned again and stared at the ceiling. "I hate when you do that."

 

"And I hate when you get hurt, so we'll both just have to deal with it."

 

MJ went silent, picking at her gown with distaste. "Well...are you?"

 

Helen looked down at the hunched inspector. "Am I what?"

 

"Angry," MJ said quietly.

 

Bumping their shoulders together, Helen smiled. "No." She said and meant it. "I just don’t want to lose you before I even have you."

 

The small inspector rubbed her face, swiping at a strand of hair. 

 

"We need to talk."

 

"I know," MJ drawled. "We keep saying that and then it never happens."

 

"Because we have sex instead," Helen pointed out and chuckled at MJ's appalled expression. "Not that I mind..."

 

"You're terrible."

 

MJ took her hand and squeezed it, entwining their fingers. Helen felt her heart beat faster as they sat like that for a while, shoulder to shoulder, and the warmth growing in her chest was nearly unbearable. 

 

Hopefully, one day, MJ would be able to express her feelings - Helen could tell she wanted to - but the wee inspector wasn’t yet ready. She imagined, for a moment, how scary and confusing it must be, how startling and disturbing to find yourself being not yourself.

 

To find a part of you that you didn’t know existed. 

 

Helen could relate to that; she had been there. Once fearless, logically minded, strong willed and confident. After Cullum had strung her up and hoisted her over a toilet, the person she had known had disappeared and Helen had found herself with a version of herself she barely recognized. 

 

Afraid, terrified, of living yet too scared, too tired to die. Vegetating, asleep and in a drunken haze to avoid the reality of her life. 

 

MJ had lost part of her identity - the straight, buttoned up catholic girl. 

 

Helen on the other hand had found herself. Her new attitude seemed to make her fearless. And beating her addiction, as hard as it still continued to be, gave ber the strength to embrace the things she couldn’t change. Like loving MJ, for one.

 

"Ms. Monahan, I have your--" An older woman entered, nose buried deep in a chart until she saw Helen sitting next to MJ. "Sorry. Inspector, I have your scans..."

 

"It's fine," MJ said and Helen knew she was trying to placate them both. "She's--we're--I mean--"

 

"Doctor Helen Hudson," Helen said, startled to find MJ gripping her hand tightly. 

 

"She can stay," MJ said eventually, flustered. "How's the shoulder?"

 

"Good news," the doctor said brightly. "The bruise is just a bruise. You'll be experiencing soreness for a while with your preexisting condition but it should clear up in 5 to 10 days."

 

"And the CAT scan?"

 

"All clear."

 

"That’s great news," Helen said and smiled at MJ. 

 

"I recommend rest, dry clothes and a hot bath."

 

"Where do I have to put my John Hancock to get out of here?"

 

The doctor smiled at her and handed her the paperwork. "Just sign here."

 

"Perfect," MJ mumbled and got the formalities out of the way. 

 

***

 

MJ changed in record time and brushed her hair, trying to salvage what the salt water had utterly destroyed. Tucking the red blouse into her skirt and straightening the collar of her blazer, MJ began to feel much better. 

 

Her gun had already been confiscated as evidence but her badge went back on - her cuffs were otherwise occupied. 

 

In the hallway, Helen took the bag with her drenched clothes and followed her wordlessly into the waiting room. The crowd clapped and MJ did her best not to blush. 

 

"Hey, Pach," she said and sidled up to him. "Any word on Sully?"

 

"Cracked three ribs and broke his arm. His wife's with him."

 

"He gonna be okay?"

 

"Looks like it."

 

Glancing at Helen who stood beside her wordlessly, MJ bit her lip. "How's our guy?"

 

Pach shrugged. "They’re stitching him up but he should be out in time for trial." He snorted. "Hey, next time you might wanna take the vest off before you go diving."

 

"Very funny, Pach, keep talking..."

 

Before he could retort, another voice rant out. "Hey, MJ!" Quinn had just gotten off the elevator. "Good work."

 

"Thanks, sir." 

 

"Now get down to the station and give your statement. Then go home."

 

"Sir--"

 

"Can you make sure she follows my orders?" Quinn said to Helen. "She seems to suffer from selective hearing."

 

"I'll see to it," Helen said, clearly amused. MJ realized the doctor had tried to not look too close, too familiar, as if they were just friends, all undoubtedly for her sole benefit and even though MJ felt grateful to be spared the embarrassment, seeing as she was the butt of the joke already, that knowledge bothered her.

 

"I'll see you tomorrow, kid. Oh, and, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get the coast guards involved in our business next time."

 

Rolling her eyes, MJ punched the call button for the elevator. She’d never live this down, ever. Once inside, the inspector could practically feel the doctor's eyes on her.

 

"MJ? What exactly did you do? The long story this time."

 

 

*****


	20. Heads or Tails

 

 

Helen was beginning to get restless. 

 

MJ was still in that room, recounting the tale to two inspectors from IAB. Helen understood the necessity but eventually anxiety had given way to boredom. Usually she found the company of her own thoughts sufficiently stimulating yet not today.

 

Her mind kept taking her back to last night and the sex that they had had. It was always effortless and wonderful when it was just the two of them but things couldn’t remain that way. Not that Helen planned on shouting it from the rooftops - she was a private person herself - but the fact remained the same, what they had wasn’t a relationship.

 

Helen knew that MJ was dwelling on it, more than perhaps she herself, because she knew what she wanted. MJ though...MJ wanted one thing but not the other.

 

Sighing, Helen spun her AA chip on the table. She would just have to wait and see. 

 

"I got myself one of those..."

 

Startled, Helen swivelled around in her chair and came face to face with an unexpected visitor. "Nico. What are you doing here?"

 

He shrugged and smiled that boyish grin of his. "I'm transferring out next week. Narcotics."

 

"Oh."

 

"Yeah. Gotta do some work on those case files..."

 

"Well, it's good to see you."

 

"Listen, could you tell--"

 

"C'mon, Helen, let's get out of here."

 

"MJ--" Nico said but the glare the small inspector shot his way shut him up.

 

"Not now, Nico," she said evenly and pulled Helen's jacket from the back of the chair. She held it out and Helen slipped into it, keeping out of the situation. "Christ," MJ swore under her breath and picked up the gym bag. 

 

Helen could tell the inspector was seething as they sped down the marble hall and outside, she just wasn’t sure whether she was upset that Nico had shown up or angry at whatever had been said in that room. 

 

"Everything go okay?"

 

"Yeah. S'all pretty straight forward."

 

"You on desk duty?"

 

"Nope."

 

Ah, Nico it was then. "Did you realize he put in for a transfer?"

 

MJ bit her lip as they reached the car and paused before she said anything she might regret. "First I heard of it."

 

"I think he wanted to apologize..."

 

Scoffing, MJ looked heavenwards. "I'm not even sure I care, Helen. I always thought he still respected me but after what’s been said, I just don’t know."

 

"Maybe you could go and talk to him, see if--"

 

"Whose side are you on anyway?"

 

"Yours," Helen said, wanting to reach out a comforting hand but knew that she shouldn’t. "I'm always on your side, you should know that."

 

MJ sighed, seemingly abandoning her anger and slumped against the car, watching, studying. Helen felt suddenly self-conscious under the scrutiny and stuffed her hands into her pockets, knowing that MJ could see right through her. 

 

"Let's go home."

 

Feeling small and vulnerable, Helen nodded. 

 

***

 

MJ finally relaxed as they arrived at the apartment while Helen seemed to be unusually on edge. She knew the doctor had held back in the parking lot, afraid to touch her in public and MJ couldn’t help but beat herself up over it. 

 

The truth was, she wanted to be with Helen. Not just friends and the occasional fuck. Just thinking about it, about them being nothing more, cheapening it to that, broke MJ's heart.

 

And so did the look on Helen's face. 

 

As the door swung open, Helen paused in the doorway, frozen. 

 

"What?"

 

"Something's wrong."

 

Alarmed, MJ brushed past her and pulled her small Beretta. 

 

"Sandy?" Helen called from behind her. "Sandy?"

 

That was it, wasn’t it? The place was pitch black and silent. No TV, no radio, nothing. Helen hurried past her to the balcony doors and MJ holstered her gun. She had expected this. Walking from kitchen to bedroom, MJ found a piece of paper neatly sitting on the pillow.

 

"She's not here," Helen said from behind her, clearly upset. 

 

"She's gone." MJ picked up the paper and read out loud, "Gone back to my place. Thanks for everything. Sandy." Sighing at the crestfallen expression on Helen's face, MJ balled up the note. "I'm sorry..."

 

"It's not your fault." Helen snivelled and walked away, into the living room. "I told her I'd help her. I told her there were places she could go!"

 

"Helen..."

 

"I mean, what is she going to do? She has no money, she has no job!" 

 

"Helen..." MJ watched her fold up the blanket, pillows scattered around, and sighed ruefully. "What are you doing?"

 

"You won’t need the sofa now, will you?" 

 

The inspector swallowed, seeing where this was going. Helen was heading straight for one of her anxiety fits. There would be shouting and tears, of course. 

 

"I'm changing the bed." Helen abandoned everything and marched back into the unoccupied bedroom. "You need to sleep and we can’t keep sharing."

 

Crying, Helen pulled the covers off. "And what is it with you anyway, huh? You sleep with me, twice, and then you just pretend nothing ever happened!" 

 

MJ bit down on her words and just stood there in the doorway, taking it. 

 

"You can’t do that to me!"

 

"Helen..."

 

"I love you, MJ. I really love you, and I wanna be with you but I can’t stand not knowing--"

 

"Helen," MJ tried again and watched the woman crumble onto the bed. "Christ..." The inspector entered the room and plopped down next to the woman. "I'm such an asshole."

 

Helen let out a laugh, shaking her head. "You're not an asshole. You’re the kindest person I know," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean it."

 

"You meant it." MJ took a deep breath as her heart decided to beat its way out of her chest. "I have feelings for you. Strong ones."

 

Beside her, Helen nodded. "Thank you for finally saying that. I started to think I'd gone soft in the head."

 

"I...I wanna be with you. I'm in love with you and I want to be with you." So there. 

 

Helen hiccupped and stared at her as if she had grown a second head. 

 

"C'mon, please don’t leave me hanging here..."

 

"Really?"

 

MJ nodded. "I just don’t know...how. It sounds stupid but--"

 

"No, no, it's not stupid." Helen gripped her hand and leaned in closer. "It's not stupid," she said firmly. "I should’ve given you more time and not forced the issue."

 

"I feel better actually," MJ admitted. "Now that I've said it."

 

"It's not the being with a woman part but the being with a woman in public part, isn’t it?"

 

MJ nodded. "It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter."

 

"It seems to bother you..."

 

"I've only ever been with cops. And everything was always a secret. I'm not a-I'm a private person--"

 

"I know."

 

"--and I never thought I'd end up being what they were saying behind my back. That’s what bothers me..."

 

"What people are going to say about you?"

 

MJ shook her head. "That I didn’t know. Hell, I never even gave it a thought."

 

"And then this happens and you start to wonder what else there is."

 

"Yeah." The inspector finally dared to look at the other woman and smiled. "I didn’t want it to be true, I was scared to even like kissing you...or the sex because I felt ashamed and out of control. I just need some time to be in control again."

 

"So you can tell everybody to fuck themselves."

 

MJ chuckled at the crass language and leaned in, head resting against Helen's then she whispered, "Can we kiss now?"

 

"We can," Helen said coyly. "Do you want us to?"

 

"Yeah..." MJ made the first step this time and cupped Helen's cheek, drawing her closer until their lips touched. Helen kissed her with such gentleness at first then with a slow burning passion that always made MJ crave more. 

 

MJ immediately tore her lips away.

 

"What?"

 

"Um...uh, we should stop or else we'll be right back to where we started."

 

"Well," Helen drawled and caressed her knee with a single fingertip. "We have nowhere to be..."

 

"You're terrible..." MJ whispered as Helen's lips descended upon hers again. 

 

"I want you. Now."

 

MJ very nearly blushed as Helen began pushing her skirt up with an urgency that betrayed her need. 

 

"Take this off," the woman ordered, pushing her jacket over her shoulders. MJ did as she was told and slipped out of the blazer then Helen started on the blouse. MJ knew the red one was her favorite, it fit just so and showed off the tiniest bit of cleavage

 

Tilting her head quite unashamedly to give Helen more neck to nuzzle, MJ nearly melted as the woman found that spot just below her ear. Arousal spread quickly through her body, intense and hot, settling between her legs as if Helen had found the on switch. 

 

"I've been waiting to do this..." 

 

"What?" MJ mumbled, prying her eyes open that she hadn’t realized she had closed. Her jaw dropped as Helen slid to the floor right before her and pulled her towards the edge of the bed. "Oh, jesus..." 

 

Reaching for her gun that had began to dig into her back, MJ unholstered it and threw it on the bed with little care - the safety was on after all - then reached for her badge. Helen stopped her, gripping her wrist tightly and glowered up at her. 

 

"Leave it on, Inspector," she all but ordered and MJ found she couldn’t possibly disobey. 

 

Then, with her skirt bunched around her hips, Helen pulled her underwear off and flung it across the room. For a moment MJ felt utterly ridiculous sitting there, half naked and in the high heels Helen had brought to the hospital and it made her wonder whether the outfit was on purpose and solely for Helen's viewing pleasure.

 

Helen spread her legs apart, completely exposing her but MJ couldn’t care less then. The other woman just seemed to look at her for an endless, agonizing moment then hoisted one leg over her shoulder and dipped her head.

 

MJ groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head as soft, warm lips wrapped themselves around her clit. "Oh, god, Helen," she whispered and screwed her eyes shut tightly because if she had to look at anything, she'd die. Gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white, MJ lost herself in the feel of the velvety caress, lips, tongue and all.

 

Helen hummed between her legs, seemingly devouring her as she licked and kissed and sucked until she hit the right spot. MJ's hips jerked and a moan ripped its way from her throat as she fell back on the bed, fingers buried in Helen's hair. 

 

"That's good..." She mumbled, head nearly exploding at the rush of arousal curling along her spine. "Oh, god, Helen, that’s so good...don’t stop, please don’t stop." She was babbling nonsense but her mouth just wouldn’t stop and neither did Helen's, sucking her into her mouth until MJ felt completely engulfed by hot, wet silk. 

 

She reached for her own breast and touched herself, despite having vowed it wasn’t a habit of hers. She shoved the bra down and squeezed her nipple, colors exploding behind her eyes as she swam in the drunken haze of pleasure. 

 

"Oh, that feels so--that feels--yes, just there..."

 

Wet like she had never been before, MJ moaned Helen's name as her world seemed to concentrate itself between her legs. 

 

"Fuck..." Breathing labored, moans escaping in small gasps, MJ nearly sobbed. "Oh, please, please, please..." She was so close, so terribly close she could almost taste it then Helen entered her, hard and deep, and the sting was all it took to make her come almost painfully in Helen's mouth.

 

Quivering with pleasure, MJ felt boneless. She realized her shoe had fallen right off her foot, but no matter, who cared? Shaking, she reached for Helen blindly and pulled the woman towards her. Toeing off her remaining shoe, they scooted further onto the bed then MJ kissed Helen, tasting herself on those lips.

 

"That good?"

 

MJ groaned, her arm flopping lifelessly onto the mattress. "Uh huh..." She then heard Helen undo her belt and shook her head. "Jusaminute..."

 

"I can’t wait," Helen insisted, nosing along MJ's neck, nipping and kissing her jaw, needy. The inspector's eyes flew open as she felt the material of Helen's pants against her exposed skin. 

 

That tiny little sound escaped Helen's lips as she touched herself, hovering above MJ. She could feel every move, everything. 

 

Mouth agape in amazement and eyes wide in wonder, MJ just watched as all the emotions flitted across Helen's face, how she bit her lip and her brow creased, puffs of breathy sighs mingling with her own breath. Utterly enthralled, MJ could only stare for endless moments, her hand itching to touch. 

 

"Oh, Mary Jane..." 

 

Speechless, utterly fascinated, MJ caressed her cheek softly then Helen's face contorted in pleasure, her orgasm taking them both by surprise. 

 

When Helen flopped down beside her and flung her arms over her eyes, MJ pulled her skirt down. "That was...different."

 

Helen chuckled and finally uncovered her face, smiling. "Did you mind?"

 

MJ blushed. "Nope." She bit her lip. "It was, uh, that was...amazing."

 

The doctor sighed gently, contend and closed her eyes. 

 

"You're so different."

 

"In what way?"

 

MJ rolled onto her side and looked down at Helen who was still fully clothed. "You’re just so...unafraid."

 

"Because I like sex?"

 

The inspector snorted. "Because...I don’t know."

 

"I could go into a long winded speech but let's just say I've long given up the notion of fairytale romance and men with magical penises."

 

MJ burst out laughing and when she had composed herself again, Helen was looking up at her with the most gentle expression on her face. Reaching out, wanting to touch those warm features, MJ let her fingertips trace the other woman's eyebrow. "You still wanna go to that art thing?"

 

"I'd love to. Why?"

 

"Let's go tomorrow," MJ said, enthused. "Now, wanna go out to dinner?"

 

Helen raised the eyebrow she had just caressed, her gaze sharp. "That depends. Are you going to shower? You smell of sea weed."

 

"Gosh, you know how to make a girl feel special."

 

"I do try..."

 

***

 

"Is this it?" Helen asked, surprised.

 

"Yep. Told you it wasn’t a burger joint." MJ opened the door and went inside, Helen followed - she didn’t like entering unknown places, MJ knew that. "Hi, I called about a table for two. It's Monahan."

 

The maitre d' checked the book and nodded. "This way, please."

 

They were seated next to the window, there was a flickering candle in the middle of the table and everything was laid out just so. 

 

"Reuben told me about this place."

 

"He did?"

 

"Yeah," MJ said wistfully. "He wanted to take me but we never went."

 

"I'm sorry..."

 

The inspector shrugged and sighed, refusing to feel bad. "We're here now and I'm going to have the biggest steak they've got."

 

Helen chuckled and leaned across the table a little, to be closer. "I don't know where you put it all, Mary Jane. You are but a string bean."

 

"Gee, what’s with all the compliments today?"

 

"Good evening," the waiter arrived. "Would you like to see the wine menu?"

 

"No," the both said in unison. "Water will be fine, thank you," Helen finished and gave him a smile. "Sooo...not to spoil the mood but I'm curious...what's going to happen with Gary Warren now?"

 

They usually didn’t discuss crime over dinner but MJ could tell that Helen had been itching to find out more. "He's still out cold, lost a lot of blood but once they declare him fit, we'll bring him in for questioning. His wife's on the way..." MJ pressed her lips together and frowned. "She's got him a lawyer."

 

"Chances are she had no idea. She may want to desperately believe he's innocent...the truth is sometimes very hard to accept."

 

"I know," MJ said. "You were right by the way..."

 

"About?"

 

"He's got a daughter. Just turned 16..."

 

"Poor thing..."

 

The waiter returned with a bottle of water and poured them both a glass, then the menu appeared. MJ went straight for the steaks while Helen looked at the fish. 

 

"I'm thinking a ribeye..."

 

"You know that stuff will kill you some day."

 

MJ shrugged. "The emphasis being someday. Meanwhile I'm having a 10 ounce."

 

"Well, I'm having the sea bass."

 

Sea bass, MJ parroted in her head and glanced over the top of her menu at Helen. She had dressed up tonight. A black velvety dress that showed off her shoulders. Her creamy white skin looked ever so soft. MJ still found it strange to think of her friend like that but had decided she better get used to it. Helen was beautiful and desiring her wasn’t wrong, no sir.

 

"If you keep looking at me like that, we might have to leave..."

 

Blushing, MJ returned her gaze to the menu, flustered.

 

"Excuse me. I don’t mean to intrude..."

 

The inspector looked up at the young woman who had approached their table. She was smiling widely at Helen. 

 

"Doctor Hudson, you probably won’t remember me, I was one of your students...Julie Driscoll? Blonde back then, hideous glasses..."

 

MJ's gaze drifted from the black rimmed frames to the pretty skirt and down to the patent leather heels. 

 

"I remember. You wrote that thesis on uh...prisons, wasn’t it?"

 

"Yes," Julie nodded. "That’s where I work now. At San Quentin. I'm a psychiatrist, thanks to you."

 

Helen's face lit up and she seemed genuinely pleased to have met the young woman. "Oh, uh, this is my...partner. MJ Monahan. MJ, Julie used to be one of my most promising students."

 

"Nice to meet you," MJ said, trying to come to terms with the mere word 'partner'. It was the truth, just take a breath, she thought. Returning her gaze to Helen, who was staring at her for a fearful moment, MJ put on a brave smile.

 

"Nice to meet you, Inspector. I've read all about you in the paper..."

 

Of course. "MJ will do. I left the rank at home today."

 

"Ah," Julie smirked. "Ben and I, he's my husband, we were wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner?"

 

Looking at Helen again she seemed to be left with the decision making, although Helen did have a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. 

 

"Sure, why not?" 

 

They gathered their things and moved tables. 

 

"Ben, this is Doctor Hudson..."

 

"Helen."

 

"And MJ, her other half."

 

"The better one," Helen said and MJ couldn’t help the blush spreading over her features. They sat and ordered. MJ couldn’t wait to have that steak, despite feeling utterly nervous. 

 

"So, MJ, what do you do?" Ben asked.

 

"I'm a cop."

 

"She's a Sergeant Inspector," Helen said. 

 

"Not you too. Pach won’t leave it alone either," MJ grumped. 

 

"Recent promotion? Everybody gave me stick for about a month when I got promoted. I'm with the CBI."

 

MJ smiled at that, keeping her opinion on the matter to herself. 

 

"I'll give you my card and next time you've got a cross-jurisdictional issue, you call me."

 

"You working homicides?"

 

"I sure do."

 

"Maybe you can help me out here..."

 

"Well, now that the children are playing nicely," Julie said teasingly. "Tell me, what have you been up to?"

 

***

 

"That was nice," MJ said as they entered the apartment. She had been quiet on the drive home, and she knew Helen had waited for her to say something but MJ's mind had been elsewhere.

 

"You mostly talked shop."

 

MJ tossed her keys onto the table and shrugged. "Ben's an okay guy. 'Sides, I meant being out together..."

 

"Ah," Helen said as she took off her jacket. "Out out?"

 

"Yeah..."

 

"Wasn’t so bad then, was it?"

 

The inspector just shrugged, still processing everything. Once she had gotten over the initial shock and embarrassment, it had been nice to be with someone again. She thought of Nico then and their affiliation. It was around that time last year when she had begun to wonder whether she'd even see him for Thanksgiving. 

 

She hadn’t. He had spent it with his kids, understandably, and just before Christmas she had ended things because he was still sleeping with his wife. 

 

Reconciliation, for the kids of course. 

 

What a load of bullshit. 

 

MJ had felt quite stupid then and had vowed not to be in love the next Christmas. 

 

Funny how things turned out. 

 

"Bed?"

 

MJ nodded mutely and grabbed the hand Helen held out to her. They'd be sleeping in the same bed now, she knew that, and didn’t resist the notion. 

 

"I'm gonna get my stuff. Be right up..."

 

It felt strange to pick up her tooth brush and her pyjamas. The book she had been wanting to read for weeks but had never even gotten past the first sentence. Looking around the room, MJ made an executive decision and grabbed some clothes.

 

Maybe Margo was right and they shouldn’t live together. 

 

But while they did, MJ might as well do it right. 

 

Arms full, the inspector climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom. Helen was in the ensuite, brushing her teeth. She dumped her clothes straight on the bed and began shoving her jackets, skirts and pants into the wardrobe then she put her underwear away and nodded to herself - this would have to do for now. 

 

"I see you brought your toothbrush," Helen said as she entered the room in a blue satin slip. "Does that mean you’re moving in?"

 

MJ just snorted and went into the ensuite, armed with her toothbrush. When she returned, Helen was sitting in bed, leafing through a book and her glasses perched on her nose. 

 

"Walt Whitman again?"

 

"Hmm," Helen hummed and resumed her reading.

 

Shaking her head, she toed off her shoes and hung up her blazer with the rest of her clothes. She unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra then slipped her tank top on. 

 

Then she divested of her skirt and freed her hair of its pony tail. Shaking out her hair, MJ turned around and found Helen looking at her over the rim of her reading glasses. 

 

"What?"

 

"You’re very beautiful, MJ," Helen said softly then resumed her reading. 

 

Flattered yet feeling somewhat coy, MJ got into bed and laid on her stomach, watching. This could work, she thought to herself, this could actually work. She had never been particularly good at relationships, and maybe that was why she had always picked very badly.

 

...but this time around she had had no choice in the matter. Not really. She couldn’t rationalize her feelings and they certainly wouldn’t go away anytime soon.

 

The thing was though, what would happen when the real world started to intrude upon this? Having been on desk duty for the most part of this 'courting period' had certainly helped matters but her hours were crazy, and she'd miss dinners for sure, and she might not make it to important dates and occasions...and sometimes she'd feel like shit because she had caught a bad one.

 

Weekly occurrence, really. 

 

"You can go see her, y'know."

 

"Who?"

 

"Sandy," MJ said evenly.

 

"How did you know?" Helen put the book down and took off her glasses, perplexed.

 

"You've been staring at the same three words for a whole two minutes. If you’re going to pretend to read you might wanna turn the page."

 

"Very funny," Helen grumped then went quiet for a moment, seemingly contemplating her words. "I'm worried I scared her away. Perhaps I pressured her too much."

 

"You just gotta give her time. We can go see her Sunday if you like."

 

"You sure?"

 

"'Course. I know you wanna help her..."

 

"She might be beyond helping."

 

"Still gotta try," MJ said firmly and squeezed Helen's hand. "You care about her."

 

"I do. She's a sweet girl and she deserves a chance."

 

Nodding, MJ pulled the covers up higher and yawned tiredly. Helen smiled down at her then turned off the lights. "Hold me?"

 

MJ scooted closer wordlessly, wanting to provide the comfort Helen so desperately needed, and put her arm over the other woman's waist, pressing her body flush against Helen's back.

 

Perhaps she needed it herself, MJ thought, and nuzzled Helen's neck, breathing in the delicate scent that was wafting off her skin.

 

God, MJ thought, what would her mother say? And her father? He'd pretend nothing was wrong, nothing ever happened. MJ and Helen were best friends and they just happened to live together because MJ was a terribly underpaid police officer. All intimate touches were prohibited and no outward affection allowed.

 

Perhaps she was more like her daddy than she ever cared to admit. 

 

Avoidance came as a second nature and there was a time and a place for 'feelin's and such', which happened to be never and nowhere.

 

He had never treated her differently though. Perhaps it had been easier to see her as one of the boys - girls were too difficult. He had never told her what she could or couldn’t do, even when she had decided she wanted to be a police officer or when she had decided to stay in San Francisco, to finish college, when the Army had uprooted them one last time. 

 

MJ snuggled closer to Helen, chasing those difficult thoughts away. Helen was soft in all the right places, and warm. MJ had had enough testosterone to last her a lifetime which made this such a beautiful experience. For once things weren’t just as they were, 'suck it up', and move on. 

 

Nothing wrong with being vulnerable sometimes. 

 

Smiling against the soft skin, MJ placed a gentle kiss at the very nape of Helen's neck. The woman hummed in her arms, a lovely sound, and pressed back against her, the satin slip rubbing pleasantly against MJ's thighs.

 

A woman! Christ! And not just anyone; Helen Hudson, of course. MJ remembered watching the doctor give her deposition as an expert witness at the Cullum trial. She had looked amazing in her professional attire, her hair styled to within an inch. She had been so confident, almost gloating, rubbing her superior intellect in Daryll Lee's face. 

 

MJ had marvelled at her that day, amazed by this woman who everyone listened to, everyone respected...because they didn’t have any choice, Helen would have had them for breakfast.

 

Looking back on it now, MJ realized she had been attracted to Helen from the very beginning. Perhaps not physically, that came later, but certainly intellectually.

 

Her hand cradled in the gentle dip of Helen's waist, MJ dropped another kiss onto the soft skin of the other woman's shoulder. 

 

Physical attraction. It was something that had always been quite the natural thing for MJ. She fell in lust more often than she fell in love but she just wasn’t the type to act upon it. The occasional fling, for sure, but the one thing MJ perhaps desired most - a loving relationship - had always been something to do later, when she wasn’t so busy...and scared. 

 

The physical side of things, well, MJ had always enjoyed it. Passion was essential. Understanding her needs, one thing Helen seemed to grasp without guidance. The emotional strength to give her that physical release when she needed it, like that first time in her apartment, when they hadn’t even undressed and MJ had cried afterwards.

 

What Helen didn’t know was that the girl in the cheap motel room, tortured and strangled, frail, innocent features, had reminded MJ too much of herself.

 

Never identify with the victim, ever. 

 

That night, Helen had given her everything. Her confident touch, her desire for her, had shrouded the memories in mist and darkness, pain dull and edges soft. 

 

"MJ?"

 

The inspector swallowed, suddenly aware of her own heavy breathing. 

 

"You okay?"

 

Blinking, MJ wrapped herself as much as she could around the other woman. "Yeah..." Maybe no. "I want--can I touch you?"

 

Helen remained silent, sighing. 

 

"Too much?" MJ wondered, thinking that that was all they did these days. 

 

"No..." Helen whispered and took her hand. "I thought you'd never ask."

 

MJ let out a laugh that she couldn’t seem to contain and let Helen guide her hand towards her breast. Beneath the silky material, MJ felt a hard nipple protruding, and she was immediately relieved to find she wasn’t the only one. MJ circled the delicate nub with her fingertips first, sighing gently as her need to touch was satisfied somewhat. 

 

Her desire softened, yet didn’t abate or lessen, it merely transformed into something loving and tender. 

 

Palming the breast, MJ felt the immediate warm sensation of arousal between her legs and Helen didn’t seem to fair any better as she moved her hips ever so slightly, pushing her backside against MJ. 

 

She clearly wanted more and MJ wondered for how long they could keep this up, the almost embarrassingly frequent sex but the thought was wiped from her mind as Helen pulled the satin slip up and over her hips for access. 

 

MJ knew she was completely exposed then, her naked skin sliding against her own thighs. Squeezing the breast in her hand, to convey her own desire, MJ felt her head swim; it happened every time. Kissing the soft skin beneath her lips, tasting the slightly salty flavor of Helen, MJ tweaked the nipple through the satin slip, turning it so painfully hard, she could hear Helen whimper. 

 

Her hips picked up a slow sensual rhythm and MJ met her thrusts, unable to resist the alluring pull, the offering, Helen presented to her, needy and begging for more. Pushing her knee between Helen's firm thighs, MJ finally managed to pull her hand away and slide it down along the warm body. 

 

Helen's tummy was flat, mostly, slightly rounded and rising and falling with the force of her heavy breathing. She could feel the warmth turn into heat as her fingertips slid over trimmed curls and over Helen's mound. 

 

"Oh, jesus, Helen..." She was incredibly wet and aroused. 

 

Helen merely mewled as MJ's fingertips sought out that hard little peak amidst all the wet and caressed it with gentle touches, circling teasingly and with barely enough pressure.

 

"Inside," she said then, voice gravelly. "Inside, please..."

 

The inspector tried to ignore the plea yet found she couldn’t. She moved a single digit and entered the woman with what she knew to be agonizing slowness. 

 

Helen groaned and MJ suspected it was more out of frustration than anything. 

 

She felt even softer inside, hot and silky wet. 

 

"MJ...I need to feel you," Helen whispered. "I need you..."

 

She pulled her finger out, ready to enter the woman again then startled as the phone rang. Pausing, and realizing Helen was doing the same with baited breath, MJ propped herself up on her elbow. 

 

"Don’t you dare answer that," Helen said evenly and turned a little to look up at MJ. 

 

The phone kept ringing then the answering machine picked up and Helen pulled the tank top right off MJ. The inspector sighed as the cool air hit her skin - they could leave a message. 

 

Helen then pushed her underwear down and MJ took it off, protest forgotten, pulling the satin slip up until Helen divested of it and laid before her, naked. 

 

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so. MJ couldn’t believe how stimulating the female form could be. Soft verges, gentle curves and breasts, god, breasts!. 

 

With shaking hands, MJ reached out, her palms trailing over Helen's chest and ribs. Somewhere in the distance the phone rang again but this time the inspector didn’t pay any notice; she was too engrossed in Helen Hudson and her amazing body. 

 

"Come here..."

 

MJ bit her lip and laid down on top, cradled by Helen's thighs. Sighing at the feel of naked skin and soft, pliant breasts pressed against her own, they kissed languidly, slowly. MJ slid lower and sucked a nipple into her mouth, humming with pleasure as she felt Helen's damp curls pressed against her tummy, slick and hot. 

 

Hands roamed over her back then, sparing her bruised shoulder, and Helen moaned loudly, back arched in pleasure. 

 

"I need to feel you inside me, MJ...please!"

 

The inspector supported herself on one arm, she was strong enough for it, and Helen kissed and nibbled along it, teeth grazing her wrist. She found Helen's center again, hotter even, and pushed her fingers inside; MJ groaned at the satiny feel and cupped the woman's clit, feeling that hard little nub pressing against its heel. 

 

Helen's nails scraped over her back then dug into her ass, forcing MJ closer and deeper inside until there was barely a breath between them. Hand lodge firmly between them, the inspector let Helen set the rhythm, hard and fast, it seemed, was in favor tonight. 

 

Then the doorbell rang. 

 

"Christ!" MJ swore. 

 

"Don’t stop!"

 

MJ knew, of course, that she should investigate who was at the door at 12 o'clock at night but couldn’t bring herself to do so, not with Helen like this. 

 

"That's good...oh, MJ, don’t stop!"

 

Definitely not now, even when there was a loud knock. 

 

"Oh, god," Helen sobbed, clawing at her back as if she were afraid MJ would leave her in this state, instead she was leaving marks, again. "MJ! MJ! MJ!"

 

The inspector felt about ready to dissolve into a puddle as her name fell from those lips over and over until Helen clenched around her fingers and bit right into her shoulder to contain the loud cry of pleasure that ripped from her throat. 

 

Of course, the doorbell rang again. 

 

"Jesus!" MJ cursed and pulled her hand away quite unceremoniously. "I'm coming!" Getting out of bed was bad enough but to look at a naked and thoroughly satiated Helen laying in it with her legs askew, made it all the worse. 

 

Putting her tank top back on and slipping into her running sweats, MJ jogged down the stairs.

 

Dreading to find Pach or Quinn, MJ opened the door and stared at Romero's startled face. "Christ, what does a girl need to do to get some down time around here?"

 

"Sorry," he said sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "I tried calling...you really need to get a cell phone."

 

Groaning, MJ pushed the door open and let him enter. "Nothing wrong with Sully, I hope?"

 

"Nah, he's fine." Romero closed the door, then eyed her suspiciously. Not wanting to give him too much opportunity to study her appearance, MJ gave him a pointed look. 

 

"We've got a scene..."

 

"What the hell, Romero! I'm not even on call tonight. What about Taylor, I thought he was on--"

 

"His kid's on the way..." His gaze was drawn to something else then, behind her, and MJ turned to find Helen padding down the stairs in a robe. 

 

"Everything okay?"

 

"Uh...we've got a scene, I gotta--I should get dressed."

 

Helen looked utterly rumpled with rosy cheeks and her hair was all over the place - she looked exactly like she had just had sex. Screwing her eyes shut for a moment, MJ turned to Romero, hoping he was as stupid as he looked.

 

Fat chance.

 

"Not a word!" MJ said immediately. "If you breathe a word of this, I will have your balls."

 

"Lips are sealed, boss," he chuckled and eyed Helen again who had caught on and was wrapping the robe tighter around herself. 

 

"I'm getting changed, and you be nice!" She made her way upstairs, feeling slightly guilty for leaving Helen all alone with Romero but then again, she was quite glad to get out of there. 

 

Upstairs, MJ couldn't help but stare at the rumpled sheets, the scent of sex lingering in the room. Stripping off and pinning her hair up, MJ got into the shower and switched the water on. Groaning, she leaned her forehead against the cold tiles. 

 

Arousal still very much throbbing between her legs, MJ tried to clear her mind. 

 

Showered and dressed, MJ descended the stairs and followed the sound of voices into the kitchen. Romero was sitting at the counter, sipping coffee and Helen stood next to him, smiling brightly. 

 

"Hey," the inspector said and took the cup of coffee Helen had been drinking. "Come on, let's go." 

 

"Sure, boss."

 

Still somewhat embarrassed by, well, everything, MJ pressed a chaste kiss to Helen's lips, refusing to hurt the woman's feelings yet again. "Come upstairs when you’re back, don’t worry about waking me."

 

"Okay...see you later."

 

"Be careful."

 

 

*****


	21. Cash Out

 

 

Helen awoke with a start. 

 

MJ had returned home. Glancing at the alarm clock, and realizing with dismay that it was nearly five o'clock in the morning, Helen waited.

 

And waited some more. 

 

After ten minutes, Helen sat up in bed, listening. The place was silent yet she was absolutely certain she had heard MJ downstairs - the sound of her footsteps had become as familiar to Helen as the sound of the waves crashing against the yachts in the marina. 

 

Worried, Helen threw the covers aside and stepped out of the room and into the hallway. Looking down, she spotted a faint light; knowing MJ, the woman had probably decided to sleep downstairs so as to not wake her. 

 

Rolling her eyes, Helen descended the stairs and padded towards MJ's room. The light was on but the inspector was nowhere in sight. Frowning, Helen entered slowly, her eyes sweeping over the room.

 

Then she heard that awful sound.

 

"MJ," she said, concern marring her features and burst into the ensuite. 

 

She found MJ on the floor, hugging the toilet.

 

"Oh, god..." She hadn’t thrown up but the small woman looked as if she really wanted to, pale and clammy. Helen kneeled down beside her and touched her forehead, checking her temperature. "Are you ill?"

 

"Nah..." MJ mumbled and sat back. "I'm fine."

 

"You don’t look like it." Studying the inspector's haggard features, it began to dawn on Helen. "What happened?"

 

"Nothing happened," MJ said quite firmly, leaning against the wall. 

 

"Mary Jane..."

 

"I don’t wanna talk about it." 

 

Helen watched with dismay as the inspector's eyes filled with tears and her clammy hand began to shake as she tried to take her shield off. "Here," Helen said and stopped MJ's frantic attempts. "Let me."

 

MJ merely released a very long and very big breath and closed her eyes as Helen unclipped her badge. 

 

"We had this uh--there was a robbery and a cop got shot."

 

"I'm so sorry."

 

"And then we found this girl--" MJ cried. "We found her in this alley and she was--her dress was covered in blood and she was laying next to all the trash. She was beautiful, Helen. Just beautiful."

 

Unsure what to do, the doctor reached out and took MJ's hand in her own, holding it tightly. "Come to bed, honey..."

 

"I can’t close my eyes just yet," MJ said, composed. 

 

"Come with me. Please."

 

The inspector relented; Helen could tell she wasn’t up to arguing, she didn’t have the energy. Weary, MJ trudged into the bedroom. She looked exhausted and still pale, the color just drained from her features. Feeling terrible for her lover and utterly helpless, Helen did the only thing she could think of.

 

Gently, as not to startle MJ, she pulled the small Beretta from its holster and checked the safety was on then put it in the drawer next to the bed. MJ watched her then merely surrendered, spent. The jacket came off and the crisp white blouse, then the pants and the bra. 

 

Helen dwelled on the purple bruises marring MJ's shoulder, touching the skin carefully and dropped a gentle kiss on it. 

 

MJ found another tank top and slipped it on wordlessly, looking at Helen - what next?

 

The doctor smiled sadly then took MJ's hand again. Once Helen had gotten the woman onto the couch, she switched on the TV - a mind numbing channel with no news - and sat down beside her. Wrapping them both up in the knit throw, they just watched for a while. 

 

Helen could tell MJ was trying very hard not to think about anything, mostly unsuccessfully, but it seemed just sitting there and being quiet together was all she needed...or could bear, Helen wasn’t sure.

 

She hoped she was doing the right thing. Detached was how Ballard had described her, aloof, emotionally unavailable...and arrogant.

 

She had slept with him for sex...but apparently he hadn’t felt that way. How she missed his feelings, Helen didn’t know. Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps she was detached and arrogant. 

 

Helen wouldn’t make that mistake with MJ. 

 

Looking at the forlorn figure with sad eyes, Helen put her arm around the smaller woman and held her tight. 

 

She finally had her now, all of it, and as scary as that was, Helen wouldn’t let her go anytime soon.

 

***

 

"Helen...Helen..."

 

"Mmh?" 

 

"Helen, I gotta go to work."

 

"What?" Helen pried her eyes open. She was still on the sofa, under the throw, yet it was definitely morning. "What time is it?"

 

"Quarter to nine..." MJ sat down beside her, dressed and looking nothing like last night. "Warren woke up."

 

"Oh..."

 

"Apparently your friends at the FBI waltzed in this morning and took all our case files. I wanna get to the hospital before they do."

 

Shaking her head to clear the fog somewhat, Helen frowned. "First, they’re not my friends and second, doesn’t he have a lawyer?" Helen sat up. "I'd talk to the wife if I were you. If you need leverage, that’s where I would start."

 

"She ain’t talkin'."

 

"Well, tell her the big bad FBI is coming."

 

MJ snorted then looked at her watch. "I'll be so late. Sorry, Helen, I gotta go."

 

"Okay..." MJ gave her a sweet kiss. "Will you make it to the exhibit tonight?"

 

"Uh...I dunno. I'm sorry--"

 

"Stop apologizing. Now, go!"

 

MJ beamed at her at being let off the proverbial hook. Helen just frowned, confused as to how she had ended up asleep. Shaking her head, she decided a shower was in order. 

 

She would go out today, Helen decided. For a brief moment she contemplated getting on a bus to see Sandy but discarded that idea - MJ was right, the girl needed time. Meanwhile Helen would have to try very hard not to think of all the trouble Sandy could get herself into.

 

She hadn’t expected to come to care for the girl when all this had started, she had never been particularly interested in kids, nor having them but Sandy, nearly a grown up herself, had somehow touched upon a part of Helen she would rather keep buried. 

 

Regret, maybe. But she had chosen her career, a conscious decision that she couldn’t look back on now and deem wrong. Her career though, well, it lay in shambles. 

 

With a wistful sigh, Helen entered the book store she used to frequent at least once a week; her extensive library proved as much. Surprisingly, it all still looked the same with the odd change in decor. 

 

Helen went to work, browsing the aisles like an old pro. Novels, autobiographies, psychology. Buying books had become somewhat of an addiction, way back when, and buying them, accumulating them in greater and greater quantities had always given Helen a sense of satisfaction.

 

She picked up a new novel that she had read about in the Times last week and made her way past the science fiction - she wasn’t into aliens, much. 

 

She spent a considerable amount of time in the psychology section and came upon Terry Paulson's new book. Helen snorted - she had gotten into several debates with him. She bought the book anyway, just to see what all the fuss was about.

 

Then she happened upon something completely different. Lesbian sex? Helen lifted her eyebrow and grabbed the book. Somewhat enticed by it, she contemplated its value - she truly didn’t need any inspiration, and neither did MJ, come to think of it. 

 

Tilting her head, deep in thought, Helen decided that no, their sex was great as it was. Feeling a bit ridiculous at the notion of requiring a guide to sex, Helen made her way to the counter and stopped short in front of a book display. 

 

She stared down at her own face and at all three of her 'masterpieces'. Next to them: 'My Life with a Knife'.

 

_Ick._

 

Helen despised the fact that Daryll Lee Cullum had so cleverly connected himself to her forever. It made her sick. 

 

And soon someone would write about Peter Foley and she'd be sandwiched between two lunatics. 

 

Sighing, Helen paid for her new acquisitions and left to peruse the farmers market. MJ probably wouldn’t be home for dinner tonight, and she probably wouldn’t make it to Salvadore's exhibit either. 

 

The thought of going there all by herself unsettled her, yet Helen shopped, undeterred, hoping they could spend some quality time together and have a nice dinner Saturday. 

 

Perhaps she should have bought a cook book; southern cuisine and such. Helen smirked and picked some apples, thinking of how food used to consist of whatever was presented to her at the restaurant, or whatever Andy had concocted of course. 

 

Oh, Andy...

 

She missed him. 

 

Some days she felt like crying. 

 

When she had made it home, Helen found the picture of the two of them at her last book launch. He had been a great PA and he had stuck with her even when the going got rough. She placed the picture on her desk and sat in her chair in front of her computers. 

 

Leaning back, she looked out of the big bay windows.

 

She wouldn’t let anybody tell the story for her, and if that nitwit could churn out another book, so could she. 

 

Helen grabbed the phone and dialled. "Inspector Monahan, please." 

 

"She's not in, can I take a message?" 

 

"What about Inspector Pachulsky?"

 

"Please hold." 

 

***

 

"This is amazing, Salvador," Helen gushed. 

 

"Wait 'til you’ve seen the next one," Hal said, giddy with excitement. "Did he tell you we're going to the Viennale next year?"

 

"Really? Congratulations!" 

 

Salvador remained humble and waved her off with a careless flick of the hand. 

 

"Now, don’t be so modest, Sal. It's a big deal," Hal argued and held onto his arm, affection shining in his eyes. "I'm so proud of you."

 

"I still have a long way to go and a lot of work to do," Salvador said and looked around at his creation. 

 

Helen smiled at them both as they bickered. 

 

"Sooo," Hal said nonchalantly. "Where's the Inspector?"

 

"At work, I'm afraid."

 

"That's too bad..."

 

The doctor bit her lip; indeed, it was. 

 

"I didn’t wanna be nosy last we saw you guys but what the hell is going on there?"

 

Helen's face fell. "S'cuse me?"

 

"Oh, you know--"

 

"Really?" Salvador interrupted. "You're terrible."

 

Hal shrugged and looked straight at Helen. "Just thought you were straight, is all."

 

"Well, I'm not," she simply said and nearly giggled as his jaw dropped. "It's quite new but it seems to be going well," Helen admitted coyly.

 

"She's great," Hal swooned. "And that drawl!" He startled suddenly. "Speak of the devil..."

 

Helen turned around and smiled brightly as she spotted MJ walking towards them. It was silly but her heart still beat faster every time she laid eyes on the woman. "Hey," she said breathlessly. "How did you get in here?"

 

"Got the cop discount," MJ flashed her badge. "Good to see you guys again."

 

"Likewise," Salvador said and elbowed Hal.

 

He indeed was terrible. 

 

"So, what did I miss?"

 

***

 

"I'm glad you came," Helen said on the way home.

 

"Me too. Even though I got no idea what it was all about."

 

"Sex."

 

"Seriously?"

 

"The commercialization of sex."

 

MJ glanced at her sideways. "That's a thing?"

 

"It sure is..." Helen just watched her for a moment, her beautiful profile outlined by passing headlights. Was it normal to be so in love with somebody? She wasn’t sure and neither did she care much. Reaching out, Helen rested her hand on MJ's thigh, just enjoying the warmth radiating off the other woman. 

 

"You told them, didn’t you? About us."

 

"Shouldn’t I have?"

 

MJ shook her head. "I was just baffled by Hal's enthusiasm when I turned up. He was like a kid in a candy shop."

 

"Ah, yes...he's very bad at keeping his trap shut. Every time Andy had met someone new, I'd hear it from Hal."

 

The inspector chuckled. "He sounds just like my aunt Louise. I once made the mistake of telling her about my first boyfriend when I was 16 and she immediately told her neighbor, the hairdresser, her manicurist and Father James who had the biggest mouth in all of Atlanta and cornered me the next Sunday after mass to tell me how bad sex was and that I, under no circumstances, were to have it before I got married."

 

Helen chuckled. "What happened to the boyfriend?"

 

"We moved to California that summer. I did have sex with him though..."

 

"Any good?"

 

MJ shrugged. "Short and sweet."

 

"As first boyfriends go."

 

"Coulda been worse." 

 

Helen smirked, her fingernails lightly scraping over MJ's exposed knee. "Maybe, one day, you can show me your Catholic school girl outfit."

 

"Now you’re freaking me out."

 

Sighing contently, Helen sat back in her seat, tracing that tiny scar on MJ's knee.

 

"You gotta be kidding me..."

 

"What?" 

 

The inspector looked at her then reached for her radio. "Under normal circumstances I'd let the broken tail light slide but I think we're looking for this guy." 

 

Helen stared out ahead at the car in front. "What are going to do?"

 

"I'm calling it in and don’t let him know that we know. Pretend we're just two people on our way home."

 

"A minute ago we were just two people on our way home," Helen grumped, experiencing slight anxiety at the unexpected turn of events but MJ merely glared.

 

"Control this is Monahan."

 

"Go ahead Monahan."

 

"Can I get plates on the Cutlass Calais BOLO?"

 

"Plates are two romero alpha charley zero nine nine."

 

"Copy that."

 

Helen swallowed - it was the right car. 

 

"I'm in pursuit of the vehicle, my 10-20 is north on the 101 approaching Broadway. Performing a 585."

 

"What’s a 585?" Helen asked before she could help it.

 

"Traffic stop."

 

"Negative, Monahan. Suspect may be armed and dangerous. Dispatching units to your location now."

 

"10-04."

 

"What did he do?"

 

"Robbery, last night."

 

Helen bit her lip. "The scene you were called out to?"

 

"Nah, we got that one." MJ gave her a tight smile. "Don’t worry. We've got backup coming in." They turned the corner onto Lombard Street and MJ spoke into her radio.

 

She had never seen MJ as, well, the Inspector. Just that once when she had burst into that bathroom maybe but that had turned into a personal thing and MJ hadn’t waited for backup then.

 

"What if he's armed? You’re not wearing a vest!"

 

"I do this every day, Helen..."

 

"No, you don’t. You sit at a desk and you look at dead people..." She knew she was turning hysterical when MJ chuckled at her. Put out by the lack of empathy for her very real fear, Helen crossed her arms and worried her bottom lip. 

 

"Here we go," the inspector said, looking in the rear view mirror at the blue and red lights approaching. "You sit tight, and don’t move." She switched on her own lights as more cars approached from down the road and boxed the Cutlass in.

 

It all seemed very efficient, Helen thought nonsensically, scared as MJ threw her door open and pulled her gun. For a moment Helen thought he'd make a run for it but the overwhelming number of guns aimed at the car seemed to nip that in the bud. 

 

Must have been a really bad robbery. Perhaps with a murder attached to it which she was sure MJ hadn’t mentioned on purpose. 

 

"Hands! Let me see your hands, now!" 

 

Then: "On the ground now! On the ground!"

 

Helen shook as the adrenalin spread through her body, setting every nerve ending on fire. 

 

The man was cuffed and hauled to his feet, searched and practically tossed into the back of a patrol car, then the volatile atmosphere seemed to slowly dwindle away. Fascination overriding her fear, Helen watched. She had only ever seen these things on TV, never had she actually been there when they apprehended these guys.

 

She came in before to look at the facts or after, into a controlled environment, every risk calculated, while these animals sat chained to the floor.

 

Watching MJ interact with the other officers, hand on her hip, showing off her badge, Helen realized that her whole demeanor had changed. She had seen it before down at the station; MJ was one of the boys with the added bonus of amazing legs and tight skirts, running her mouth and cursing like a sailor. 

 

At home...she was funny and all woman, sweet yet confident and smart. 

 

Now though, she was parading around with an air of superiority. She looked like an arrogant prick and Helen couldn’t believe she found it so utterly attractive. 

 

Groaning at herself as MJ returned to the car, Helen decided she needed a head exam. 

 

"Let's go home," the inspector said with a grin, looking very smug. "Sorry about that."

 

"It's fine," Helen mumbled then decided that it wasn’t arrogance after all, it was confidence which was perhaps a little less shameful to be attracted to. 

 

"You alright? I didn’t mean to scare you..."

 

Helen sighed and put on a smile as they drove off. "I know. This is your job and you couldn’t let him get away."

 

MJ nodded and drove towards Fort Mason. "What've you been up to today?" She asked then, changing the subject. 

 

"This and that."

 

"Where does she go? Nowhere. What does she do? Nothing."

 

Smiling, Helen placed her hand back onto MJ's knee, resuming her caress. "I went book shopping and then I had a look around the market. I hope you’re home tomorrow because I bought salmon and I don’t know what to do with it."

 

The inspector snorted. "I'm home," she said, teasing. "I'm on call though, so you might wanna have a word with all the baddies in town."

 

"I'll send out a memo." Worrying her bottom lip, Helen eyed the inspector, drawing small, sensual patterns onto her skin. "Sooo, that guy, what did he really do?"

 

"Told you, robbery last night."

 

"And then what?"

 

"Hmmm..."

 

"That wide eyed little girl routine doesn’t fly, MJ. Out with it."

 

"Killed a guy...or two in the process."

 

"Ah. I figured." She liked being right. "I do hope this doesn’t happen again...although..."

 

"What?" MJ prodded coyly.

 

"It was quite exciting to watch you."

 

"Me?"

 

"You completely changed."

 

The inspector remained mute for a moment then glanced at her, curious. "Changed how?"

 

"You're really full of yourself sometimes, MJ--"

 

"Hey!"

 

"--but I thought it was quite sexy."

 

"Helen!" 

 

MJ blushed and Helen felt pleased to have achieved it. She didn’t know where it came from but tonight Helen found herself in a teasing mood. "Maybe, when we get home, you can leave the badge on, Inspector." 

 

"What is it with you tonight?"

 

Helen just shrugged and let her hand wander a bit. "Arrest me then."

 

MJ groaned. "God help me!"

 

***

 

Helen moaned loudly, the sound bouncing off the hallway walls several times before it vanished into silence. MJ kissed her neck while simultaneously trying to unlock the front door. 

 

"Forget the door," Helen said and crushed their lips together. They stood there for a good minute, kissing passionately, until MJ tore her lips away.

 

"If we keep goin' we might both get arrested," she said, her voice gravelly, and unlocked the door. They stumbled inside, keys dropping to the floor. MJ kicked the door shut behind them then shrugged out of her jacket.

 

Helen groaned against the soft, insistent lips and shed her own jacket then her shoes to level their height somewhat. She then tried to think of the next flat surface, deciding her desk was too cramped and pulled MJ along towards the dining room. 

 

"On the table," she said and exposed her neck to the inspector's insistent lips. "I need you, right now."

 

"Jesus, Helen," MJ whispered. "If anyone knew we're doing it all the time--"

 

"Not often enough." Her backside finally collided with the dinner table, so she slid onto it, pulling her own skirt up. "I can’t get enough of you." Just to torture herself, Helen let her palm trail over MJ's shoulder, her breast and her flat tummy to her shield then pulled the woman closer by her thin belt.

 

"Come on, Inspector," she husked and gave it another tug. 

 

"Behave yourself," MJ said, stern expression on her face as she ripped the popper buttons on her blouse open, exposing Helen's chest. 

 

Not to be outdone, the doctor made for MJ's top button then yelped in surprise as she was pulled off the table and spun around. Helen hissed at the pain in her shoulder as her arm was twisted behind her back and she found herself face down on the table. 

 

MJ kicked her legs apart a little then she felt her hot breath in her ear. "Hands on the table where I can see them." 

 

Helen did as she was told, arousal pooling in her underwear as she straightened up and placed her hands flat onto the table.

 

"Don’t move or I'll cuff you."

 

"Yes, Inspector."

 

MJ searched her then, lingering on her breasts, squeezing them until Helen's nipples had turned rock hard and her thighs quivered with arousal. 

 

Then the hands trailed lower, one disappearing in her panties. The anticipation nearly killed her until she felt MJ's delicate fingers slide over her clit. 

 

And then suddenly stopped. "Oh, god, MJ, please don’t."

 

Not seeing and therefore not knowing what the inspector would do next had, Helen found, its appeal. Shaking with desire, she waited. MJ took her panties off and Helen felt slight embarrassment at the fact that her arousal was slowly running down the inside of her left thigh.

 

She didn’t have much time to dwell on it as MJ entered her from behind and nearly had her topple over with the force of her thrust. 

 

Helen wanted to scream but no sound came out. 

 

Then MJ proceeded to screw her into next week.

 

"Oh, god..." Helen whimpered yet couldn’t bring herself to say the word 'stop', instead she said, to her own horror, "Harder!" 

 

What?! Helen screwed her eyes shut as MJ circled her waist with one arm and used her own hips as leverage. She had never indulged in this before - painful pleasure - yet the pain felt good. What aroused her more than anything though was the power MJ had over her. 

 

"Oh, god!" Delirious, Helen let her head drop and revelled in the feel of MJ's warm body flush against her own while the woman's fingers reached places Helen didn’t know even existed. 

 

Then, to her utter horror, Helen realized she would come, way too soon. "Slow, oh god, I'm--" Moaning helplessly as MJ palmed her breast again and pinched her nipple so terribly hard it made Helen's insides clench, she screwed her eyes shut even tighter.

 

"Oh, god, MJ, I'm going--I'm--" 

 

It was too late. Slumping forward, Helen did scream this time, expelling every last bit of air in her lungs, wave after painful wave. "Oh, god," she mumbled when she found she finally could and swallowed, her throat like sandpaper. 

 

MJ pulled her fingers out and Helen whimpered, empty, then the inspector pulled her upright and made her sit on the table. Shaking from head to toe, Helen lowered her head onto MJ's shoulder and tried to regain her breathing. 

 

"Oh, god," she said again and clenched her thighs together while MJ caressed her gently.

 

"I didn’t hurt you, did I?"

 

"A little," Helen admitted. "But you didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to." She groaned at the feeling of complete and utter satisfaction. "That was good." She smiled into MJ's neck. "I love you and I can’t believe I nearly bought a book about lesbian sex this morning."

 

"What?"

 

Sitting back, Helen felt herself blush scarlet. "It was silly, forget about it." Looking into MJ's big brown eyes, she could tell the inspector wanted to say something but then decided not to. "We can do that again," Helen murmured coyly to break the silence. 

 

"There's something I wanna try," MJ said and pulled up a chair. She sat right down and looked up at Helen with a glint in her eyes then took hold of her knees and spread them apart. 

 

Helen chuckled. "I don’t know if I can..."

 

"You better try very, very hard."

 

Helen swallowed. "Yes, Inspector," she vowed and watched MJ's face transform as she looked at Helen in the dim light. Pushing the skirt up just that bit further, MJ dipped her head. Her touch was tentative at first, tasting and mapping. 

 

Sighing, Helen leaned back onto her hands and slid her foot up onto the back rest of the chair for better access. MJ kissed her outer lips, nosing her way around then dipped her tongue in between. She was very gentle, which suited Helen just fine as she was still sensitive from their first encounter.

 

She wasn’t sure whether she could come again but as MJ gained confidence, Helen felt her arousal rekindling. Lips pressed against her clit, kissing sensually, tongue fluttering lightly, MJ nearly made her melt. 

 

"Oooh, that’s...oh, MJ."

 

The inspector ran her hand along her legs, massaging, caressing then spread them apart wider, pressing her lips to the warm flesh and sucked. Helen groaned, her hand shooting to MJ's head, keeping her exactly where she was. 

 

"Right there, honey. Yes, right there!" 

 

MJ hummed, having found a new passion it seemed, hands roaming over Helen's body. 

 

"Oh...oh...Mary Jane...that feels good..." Helen felt hot all over, a fine sheen of perspiration forming on her overheated skin as MJ found that perfect spot and licked and kissed it with such fervor, Helen knew she would come again. 

 

"Don’t stop...oh! Yes, there..."

 

Helen's eyes rolled back in her head. 

 

Whatever it was the inspector did, Helen didn’t want her to stop doing it. Panting, Helen threw her head back, canting her hips just so and wove her fingers through MJ's silky pony tail. 

 

"Yes! Ah! MJ!" 

 

There it was again, an amazing orgasm. Helen panted through her release, her legs tightening around the inspector. When the waves subsided, she laid down on the table, wiping a bit of sweat off her brow. 

 

"You okay?" 

 

MJ's face appeared above her, her deep brown eyes studying her features. She had that beautiful lopsided grin on her face and Helen really wanted to tell her that she loved her again but decided not to - MJ wouldn’t be able to say it back, not yet anyway, and Helen didn’t want to put her in that position.

 

"I'm okay," she said, chuckling then whispered, "Kiss me."

 

MJ obliged, her sweet lips gentle and warm. Helen touched her face with just the tips of her fingers, awed and utterly amazed. 

 

"I'm glad you’re in my life, MJ."

 

The inspector looked at her then smirked. "Now don’t you go all maudlin on me."

 

"I wouldn’t dream of it." Helen smiled and kissed her again, a bit more passionate this time. "As nice as this was, I really want to get you in bed...and naked."

 

MJ just snorted at her and pulled her upright, kissing her again. 

 

"I want to take my time for a change..." Helen explained quietly then groaned. 

 

"What’s the matter?"

 

"I'm happy."

 

"And that’s a bad thing?"

 

"Nooo," Helen grumped. "This crank just isn’t used to it."

 

"Get out," MJ said and pulled her off the table. "I know plenty gentlemen who'd like to make you happy, take your pick."

 

"Well, good thing I've got this lady friend who gives me the best sex I've ever had...oh, and her cooking's great too."

 

"If you call me lady friend again, I will cuff you."

 

"What are you then? Girlfriend?" Helen said coyly.

 

"I liked partner..." MJ replied, suddenly going still. "We're partners."

 

Helen felt too touched to reply, instead she took the inspector's hand and guided her up the stairs. In the bedroom, Helen slipped her unbuttoned blouse off and threw it in the laundry basket. Her skirt would have to go go the dry cleaners though.

 

Glancing at MJ who was unhooking her bra, Helen had to smirk as she saw the red, angry marks running down her back, marks she had put there last night. The thought made her tingle but then MJ undid her pony tail and the scratches disappeared behind a curtain of auburn hair.

 

"Here," Helen said and stepped closer. "Let me." Slowly she unzipped the smart skirt and pushed it over MJ's hips. The garment fluttered to the floor noiselessly and Helen took the opportunity to let her hands dance over the gentle swell of MJ's hips. 

 

Swiping the hair out of the way, she kissed the delicate and bruised shoulder and touched the scar the through and through Peter Foley had left her with. 

 

Letting her hands trail down the lean body, over small breasts and trim tummy, Helen reached for the panties, coyly pulling them down. To her own chagrin, she found more marks, right on MJ's ass, and Helen could barely contain her amusement at the sight before her, the state MJ was in.

 

Another moment went by then she felt overcome with affection. Sliding her palm along MJ's back and to her ass, Helen marvelled at its firm texture. She had never paid enough attention to it, nor MJ's tiny waist, or the little dimples just above her buttocks. 

 

Oh, she was beautiful! 

 

She heard MJ's breath hitch and instinctively looked up. Staring back at them was their reflection in her dresser's mirror. MJ had been watching her all along yet the blank, wide eyed expression on her face betrayed nothing. 

 

Helen stilled and looked into that intense gaze. "I wanted to take you to bed," she said, voice small in the shadow of MJ's stare.

 

"Here's just fine."

 

Well then. 

 

Averting her eyes even though she wanted nothing more than to see everything, take in every detail, every reaction and emotion on MJ's face, Helen instinctively knew that she should give the woman at least that small shred of privacy. 

 

Biting her lower lip, she touched, barely so, the defined line from rib to pelvis, the perfect loin. 

 

MJ didn’t eat much and she went out for runs, Helen could clearly see it in her thighs. A strong muscle beneath that soft baby skin, defined yet utterly attractive in its bare form. Her eyes strayed, glued for a moment to the soft curls at the juncture of MJ's thighs, and she couldn’t tear them away just then. 

 

Helen knew MJ was watching her, that she could see every intimate thought flitting over her features, her desire so plainly obvious, written in her eyes. It was unsettling yet oddly arousing to have a spectator, to share this moment of weakness, of vulnerability and almost embarrassingly detailed self-disclosure. 

 

In that precise moment Helen felt closer to MJ than she had ever before. Perhaps that time on the rooftop when their lives had not merely intersected but completely intertwined.

 

Intimacy, what a strange and convoluted thing it was, Helen mused as she trailed her fingers along the soft roundness of MJ's breasts. Small and pert, nipples rosy and hard, they looked perfect. Perhaps it was wrong to reduce womanness to that but if Helen had to pick something, the thing that gave a woman's body an aura a man's could never have, then it would be breasts.

 

Soft and round and delicate. Feminine.

 

She cupped them gently and closed her eyes for just a moment, relishing in the feel of peaked nipples poking into the palms of her hands. Helen looked at MJ again, just to see if her touch provoked any reaction yet what stared back at her was blank and stony faced. Her gaze was penetrating, almost uncomfortably so, yet held a warmth that soothed the sting.

 

Helen didn’t know what to make of it. Surely, the eroticism didn’t escape the other woman. And MJ was just that, an erotic beauty that was sexually so desirable that sometimes Helen could barely stop herself from wanting her. 

 

She wondered if MJ looked at her in the same way. Perhaps. The thought seemed surreal. Maybe that was it? To be confronted with your mirror image, desired almost painfully and perhaps feeling some deeply rooted shame for self love...

 

Oh, MJ. She was such a guarded person. That was why sometimes, on the harder days, days when she wanted to be somewhere else, when she wasn’t anybody but this cop amongst cops, that's why sometimes she did her top button up, just so she'd disappear. Being seen for who she was, that small, sometimes vulnerable, sometimes terribly sad woman, to be known deeply and intimately, beyond the every day persona, that was perhaps MJ's greatest fear. 

 

Helen had seen her. Many times. When she had laughed at that silly cartoon in the newspaper. When she had looked shy and utterly humble upon receiving her medal. When she had slept on the sofa that time. Cried over Reuben. Had stood before her, fearful yet determined and had kissed her desperately afraid to lose everything. 

 

Helen knew, without a doubt, without MJ having to say it, that the woman loved her. 

 

That’s how intimately she knew her. 

 

No sense in hiding now. 

 

Blinking slowly and feeling a barely there little smile form around her lips, Helen trailed the very tips of her fingers lower, past the navel, into the curls. She halted there, surprised to find MJ following her every move.

 

"Look at me."

 

The woman's eyes snapped to hers then her features transformed as Helen dipped into the wetness. She made that low barely sigh, almost sound and closed her eyes. Perfect surrender, peaceful like Helen had never seen her before. 

 

Spreading her fingers across MJ's flat tummy, Helen moved slowly, deliberately. She felt hot and slick, very aroused and, holding impossibly still, Helen could feel her heartbeat right there, between her legs. 

 

Drawing soft circles around her clit, Helen stared at herself, her hand moving ever so slightly then at MJ's face. Her eyebrows had crinkled and her lips had fallen apart, concentration written across the beautiful features, suspended and motionless. 

 

With the very tip of her finger, Helen touched upon the hard nub of MJ's sex, carefully pressing down on it, slowly, and felt MJ shake in her arms, trembling at the powerful sensation. Helen brought her arm around her waist; she could tell the woman felt weak in the knees and held her tightly against herself. 

 

Wordlessly she added another fingertip, circling slowly, until the trembling wouldn’t stop and MJ's expression turned nearly painful. 

 

Helen felt incredibly powerful then, swirling her fingers around MJ's most intimate place. She was so wet, her trimmed curls glistening in the dim light, setting her scent free to roam the room. 

 

The woman sighed again, her breathing deep and deliberate then she held onto Helen's arm and reached back for her, anything to hold onto, and dug her fingers into Helen's hip. 

 

"Ahhh," she cried quietly, the sound so sensual it nearly broke Helen apart. 

 

Staring, she held her breath, listening to every little sound, every little gasp falling from MJ's lips as she circled around, over and over in purposefully unpredictable patterns, driving the small woman to ever greater heights until, hopefully, she wouldn’t be able to bear it anymore. 

 

That point, Helen realized, would come very soon as MJ nearly collapsed in her arms, holding on for dear life. 

 

Looking at her own hand, lodged between two glistening thighs, Helen lowered her lips to MJ's delicate shoulder, eyes never leaving their reflection. Kissing gently, Helen tilted her head, lips impossibly close to MJ's ear, touching just so as she parted them, Helen whispered, "I love you."

 

MJ sobbed, turning her head, and then they kissed until MJ came, shaking and trembling, barely standing and panting into Helen's mouth. 

 

They made it into bed eventually, both naked. MJ held onto her beneath the covers, needy for closeness. Helen smiled as she heard the other woman's breathing even and she had gone to sleep. 

 

MJ did love her, that was for sure.

 

 

*****


	22. Payday

 

 

MJ rolled onto her tummy, hugging her pillow. It was too early to wake up, especially on a Saturday morning, yet the cold spot next to her filled her with unrest.

 

Helen had the most ludicrous sleeping pattern, if you could call it that even. She was a night owl and she used to sleep the mornings away in a drug and alcohol induced haze. Now though, she was all over the place, especially when she had cravings.

 

To say that their Twizzler expenses had more than doubled was an understatement. Gone through the roof, more like it. 

 

Becoming aware of her body, especially the tingle between her legs, MJ groaned into the pillow. 

 

The amount of sex they had was ridiculous and just thinking about last night tempted MJ to go downstairs naked and maybe christen the couch. 

 

Ugh, last night. She felt herself blush, embarrassed by her own behavior or perhaps more so the fact that she had exposed everything, completely, and had enjoyed it. 

 

Deciding that it was no good, she had to get up and see what was going on, MJ rolled out of bed. She grabbed her tank top and underwear and wrapped herself up in one of the many robes. Brushing her teeth and splashing her face with cold water, MJ felt somewhat awake even though she certainly didn’t look it.

 

Padding down the stairs to Puccini, and following the sweet scent of coffee, she found Helen with the obligatory Twizzler at her desk. She wore hardly anything, just her comfy cardigan and a pair of panties, attesting to the fact that she had left the bedroom in a hurry.

 

Cravings? MJ was about to find out. 

 

"Morning," Helen said brightly and took off her glasses to get a good look at her. 

 

"Morning," MJ all but mumbled and picked up the still steaming cup of coffee from the desk. "Still warm..." She had a big gulp then eyed up the disarray of paperwork. "What’s all this?"

 

"Case files. Pach faxed them over yesterday--"

 

"You’re not even s'posed to have 'em."

 

"I did want to ask you but you were out. After buying that stupid book, and the book display, which was awful, I thought, what the hell, let's do it."

 

"Do what?" MJ felt thoroughly confused whenever Helen said things that clearly only made sense in her head. 

 

The doctor just looked up at her with a coy grin then pulled her down onto her lap. "I'm writing a book."

 

"Since when?"

 

"Since yesterday," Helen said as if it were completely inconsequential.

 

MJ just gaped then shook her head. "About Peter Foley?"

 

"Nope," Helen said. "About you."

 

"Christ." MJ frowned. "What could you possibly write about me?"

 

Helen just smiled, her fingertips caressing along her thigh - very distracting. "Read a lot of books?"

 

What did that have to do with the price of beans. "Used to."

 

"Been to a library lately?"

 

"Eh..."

 

"Seen a book about Jack the Ripper?"

 

MJ shrugged. "Plenty."

 

"What about Bundy?"

 

"Sure."

 

"Bet you’ve seen a movie about him..?"

 

"I did."

 

Helen smirked at her as if she should be getting by now then said, "Who arrested th Boston Strangler?"

 

"No idea."

 

"What about David Berkowitz? Who caught him?"

 

"I don’t know, Helen."

 

The doctor pointed at the screen. 

 

'To the unsung heroes' MJ read to herself. 'The men and women in uniform.' She stared at the line for a moment then turned to Helen - she got it now. 

 

"I want to write about you and Reuben and Pach, about how tirelessly you worked, about all the effort that goes into an investigation like this. About Burt and Mike. About how you didn’t sleep for days, and all the blood, sweat and tears. Writing about him would be exactly what Peter would have wanted."

 

MJ didn’t know how to feel about that; everybody reading about her? Well. "Helen..."

 

"Don’t argue with me. I might need your help getting all the facts together so you better get comfortable with the idea."

 

A book. And her name would be in it, for all eternity. "Okay, I'll help."

 

"Great," Helen gushed and kissed her. "You want breakfast? I'm starving!"

 

MJ just nodded and got up, pulling Helen along with her. Eying the scantily clad woman, MJ shook her head. "You really gotta put some clothes on..."

 

***

 

MJ was hard at work, leafing through paperwork on the couch. 

 

Helen had told her countless times that she didn’t want crime scene photos spread around her lounge but looking at her own desk, Helen felt it was now a rather mute point. Her Saturday had only marginally gone as she had planned with fresh eggs from the market for breakfast.

 

MJ had loved it - she had some sort of love for eggs that Helen found strange yet fascinating.

 

Then the inspector had showered and shortly after announced she had 'a ton of work to do'. 

 

"Maybe we can go out later? To the café?"

 

"'Course."

 

And that had been that. 

 

The phone rang just after 11 o'clock, interrupting the productive silence. MJ answered with a swift 'Hello' then Helen tuned out - the inspector was required at a crime scene, no doubt. No fancy coffee for them. 

 

When the call lasted for longer than was typical, Helen's ears perked up, especially after hearing MJ laugh. 

 

"Who was that?" She asked as she wandered into the living room, finding the other woman on the couch, back at work.

 

"My idiot brother."

 

Lifting her eyebrow, Helen came closer, plopping down next to the inspector. "Which one?" She knew MJ had three. 

 

"Mikey."

 

"Ah." He was only a year older than MJ and Helen suspected they were rather close, and not just in age. 

 

"Him and Hannah want to come up from LA for Thanksgiving, they've got news."

 

"News?" Helen searched her brain for clues. "What did you say?"

 

"That I had to ask you first."

 

"And? Are you going to?"

 

"To what?" MJ replied innocently, shuffling papers.

 

"Ask me?"

 

The inspector looked at her, biting her bottom lip to hide a grin - busted! "Helen, would you mind if we had my idiot brother and his wife for Thanksgiving?"

 

"I'd be delighted."

 

MJ rolled her eyes. "Wait 'til you've met him."

 

Helen smiled, pleased with the turn of events. "Is he still asking about our living situation?"

 

"Not really...but I'm sure he's gonna interrogate the hell out of you when he gets here."

 

"And what would you like me to say?" Helen asked, trying to sound as neutral as possible yet hoping the inspector would give her the desired answer. 

 

Worrying her bottom lip some more, MJ shrugged. "The truth--I mean I told him--I said I got news too."

 

"Really?" Inwardly Helen was ecstatic, yet on the outside she remained calm. "We can tell him together, if you like."

 

Half expecting MJ to decline, Helen was surprised when she nodded and gripped ber hand. "That'd be great."

 

"Sooo." Helen felt like prying. "I know he's a basketball--"

 

"Baseball."

 

"Baseball coach, right. What about your other brothers. Nate and..?"

 

"Johnny...John junior."

 

"Nate and Johnny. What do they do?"

 

MJ abandoned her work, throwing her pen onto the pile. "Nate's in Conyers. He's a teacher."

 

"What does he teach?"

 

"Chemistry."

 

"What about Johnny?"

 

"EMT in the Army."

 

Helen lifted her eyebrow at the curt answer. Instead of prodding what seemed to be a touchy subject, she smiled instead. "Funny..."

 

"What is?"

 

"Your family seems to be in the business of helping people."

 

MJ didn’t say anything, she just picked on her t-shirt distractedly. "You’re not gonna put that in your book, are you?"

 

"Maybe," she teased. "Or maybe I just want know all about you."

 

The inspector giggled and leaned back into the sofa, legs drawn up. "You wanna know all about me? How about you tell me all about you?"

 

She was very good at deflecting but Helen decided to play the game. "What do you want to know?"

 

"What is it about you and that Ballard guy?"

 

Helen snorted. "That’s what you want to know?" She sighed then nodded. "We met at a conference. I saw potential and decided to ask him to join a study I was conducting. One night, after a very long day, we slept together."

 

"And then?"

 

"And then he wanted more."

 

"But you didn’t?"

 

"No," Helen said nonchalantly. "Let's just say it all went downhill from there." Bemused, she patted MJ's knee. "Anything else?"

 

MJ looked suitably embarrassed, nibbling her bottom lip coyly. "You never mentioned your parents before."

 

"There's nothing to tell and nothing I'm hiding. My mother is a physician, my father is a miserable man."

 

"What?" MJ almost laughed.

 

"He's a shrink," she said and bumped their shoulders together. "They divorced over 15 years ago, hence his misery. She married a nice man called Clarence and they live in Boston while my father is wasting away in New York."

 

"Only child?"

 

Helen bit her lip. "For the most part."

 

"Meaning?" MJ prodded like only a cop could.

 

"I had a brother. He died." Helen said plainly then took pity on the other woman. "Leukaemia. I was very little when it happened."

 

"What's his name?"

 

"Leonard." Helen smiled at the mental image of him. "I was spoiled rotten after that."

 

"Goes without saying."

 

"Very funny." The doctor chased the brief bout of melancholy away and took a deep breath. "I have two step brothers though. Benjamin is un artiste...and Jerome, well, I don’t think even he knows what he is."

 

MJ snorted and averted her gaze, seemingly absorbing it all. "My brother Mikey and I are the MJs. Mary Jane and Michael James."

 

Helen bit her lip to keep from laughing. 

 

"My dad thinks it's hilarious. My mother calls us by our full names, always." 

 

"That’s terrible," she chuckled. 

 

"We made a pact once, to marry MJs and have MJ kids."

 

"Oh, god!"

 

"I just realized we both ended up with an H. Hannah...Helen. Mamma will blow a gasket."

 

Helen giggled, hiding behind a pillow. 

 

"I know, it's ridiculous."

 

"I think it's sweet."

 

MJ shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. "Still wanna go for that coffee?"

 

Helen smiled, eyes shining. "Ready when you are."

 

***

 

"I don’t care what you say," Helen said firmly. "You have to have it and I'm buying it."

 

MJ rolled her eyes as Helen opened her purse, clutching the emerald green blouse to her chest. 

 

"I know they don’t pay you enough," the doctor ranted on, approaching the counter. "But my book sales went up by 47% and some good has to come of it."

 

"Like a Chanel silk blouse?"

 

"Yes," Helen said, missing the sarcasm completely. "You know, if you didn’t insist on contributing to the bills, we wouldn’t have this argument."

 

"I still wouldn’t be buying it," MJ grumped - the price tag was ridiculous. "'Sides, I pay my own way. I'm not living at your place, rent free."

 

"Our place."

 

"Your place."

 

"I'll put you on the mortgage, now shush."

 

Christ, MJ thought and watched Helen hand over her credit card. 200 bucks later, they left the store. 

 

"Don’t be grumpy," the doctor said gently, looking terribly happy with her newest purchase. "You can get the coffee."

 

"That hardly equates." 

 

"Well," Helen shrugged, "Move in then."

 

"I am living there, aren’t I?" MJ didn’t see the point of this conversation. She would never make that kind of money, first of all and secondly, she still had an apartment to pay for.

 

"I know it's too soon, but maybe, when your lease ends--"

 

"January."

 

"Well, maybe you might not want to renew it."

 

MJ bit her lip; giving up the apartment? 

 

"You can keep the spare room, it can be your space - I have the office - and if I get on your nerves, you can hide in there. I know it's not the same thing but I'm sure--"

 

"Helen?" MJ stopped short. "Just let me think about it."

 

"Okay," the other woman said brightly, as if she had already won.

 

Which she probably had, MJ grumped to herself. She did like living there. She loved the company and she loved the space, waking up there. And she really loved Helen. _Ugh_. "Alright."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Yeah. I'll move in properly. In January. Providing this--I mean our relationship is going in the right direction."

 

"Excellent! Now, I'm having a double espresso, I'm feeling adventurous."

 

MJ rolled her eyes yet again and opened the door to the café. They sat out on the deck in the sunshine, sipping their over priced coffees. Helen looked out at the marina, yachts gently swaying upon the waves and MJ just watched her. 

 

Moving in together? Properly? It was perhaps a bit soon to even mention it. 

 

But then they had sort of lived together for a while now. It was different now though; everything was closer. They shared a room and throwing in all these feelings and sex usually complicated things. They would just have to see in a few months time but MJ found she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.

 

Helen's place felt familiar, homey even and MJ didn’t even miss her own space. 

 

No sense in dwelling on it, MJ decided, only time could tell. 

 

"Penny?" 

 

The inspector tore her eyes away from the sea and smiled at Helen. "Just...life."

 

The doctor chuckled. "I know. Sometimes I still can’t believe I'm doing all the things that I'm doing. Like sitting here, for example."

 

"You've come a long way."

 

Helen smiled a little and patted her knee. "Still have a lot of work to do," she said then tilted her head. "But it's progress."

 

"I'm proud of you." MJ really meant it - Helen was brave.

 

"Sooo, I'm guessing the FBI is taking Warren away from you?"

 

"That sums it up." MJ shrugged, having avoided the topic last night. "I wanted to have a crack at him something bad but if they haul him off, I can kiss that goodbye."

 

"Maybe I can talk to agent Hammond."

 

"Maybe."

 

"I suspect they're getting David Ballard in..."

 

"Ah."

 

"If you really want me to, I'm sure I could pull a string or two."

 

"Ballard's strings, you mean?"

 

Helen bit her lip. "He owes me a massive apology and he knows it."

 

"As long as he knows that’s all it is."

 

"I really don’t know why you’re jealous," Helen said evenly. "I haven’t seen the man in over a year. He came by once, to see how I was, as a friend--"

 

"Friend," MJ repeated, unable to stop her mouth for some reason then shook her head at her own appalling behavior. "I'm sorry."

 

"Fine," Helen said contritely. "If it helps any, you’re the best sex I've ever had and--"

 

"You make me sound like I just stepped out of a cave--"

 

"Or the deep south."

 

"Hey!" MJ screeched. "That was mean."

 

Helen snorted then giggled. "Trust me, there's nothing that appeals more to me than your southern charm."

 

"Ha ha," MJ grumped. 

 

"MJ, what I feel for you is unrivalled, you know that."

 

"I know..."

 

"Then what’s bothering you?"

 

MJ bit her lip - she had no idea. 

 

"I didn’t peg you as the jealous type."

 

"I'm not."

 

"You have me," Helen said and squeezed her hand. "Do I have you?"

 

"'Course..."

 

The doctor gave her a weak smile at that. Well, MJ thought, it wasn’t a lie. 

 

***

 

"I'm thinking of growing my hair out."

 

MJ frowned. "Really? I kinda like it this way."

 

"You do?"

 

The inspector nodded as they neared the apartment loaded with shopping. Helen had bought salmon the other day yet nothing to go along with it. 

 

"I also want to get my car out of storage."

 

"You wanna drive again?"

 

Helen shrugged. "Not just yet but I thought you might..."

 

"Me?"

 

"Yes, you. I'll put you on the insurance." Helen said as if it were yet another inconsequential thing. "It's a Mazda."

 

"Red, you said?" MJ asked. 

 

"Yep. And it's a convertible."

 

She wasn’t into cars much but a convertible? Hell, yeah! MJ grinned, smitten with the idea.

 

"It needs to be driven," Helen added with a nod. 

 

MJ wasn’t about to argue, instead she smiled.

 

"You better not wreck it though."

 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

 

"I'm just saying..." Helen grumped. "And no chasing criminals in it or any other such nonsense."

 

"Promise." MJ vowed then Helen just stopped. "What?" The other woman looked shell shocked, staring at the apartment building.

 

"Sandy."

 

Following her line of sight, MJ spotted the girl at the top of the stairs, smoking. Next to her sat a large bag. 

 

"I was hoping you'd come back," Helen said as they approached Sandy who looked somewhat relieved at that. "Are you alright?"

 

"Yeah, sure..." Sandy chewed her ruby red lip then dropped the cigarette. "You said there was places I could go..."

 

Helen sighed. "Why don’t you come inside first, hmm?"

 

They made it up the steps and down the hall wordlessly. MJ felt somewhat on edge, worried, perhaps for good reason, who knew? But Helen liked the girl and if Sandy was anything, it was honest...brutally so.

 

"Here," Helen said and took the large bag. "Let me put that away. I'll make some coffee and then we can talk."

 

As the woman disappeared into the guestroom, MJ turned a critical eye on Sandy. The girl was fidgeting, arms folded and avoiding to even look in her direction.

 

"So," MJ started. "What gives?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"C'mon."

 

Sandy slumped visibly and dragged her fingers through her hair. "I got no money and I can’t pay the rent..."

 

"Cause you got no job."

 

"Right," she said evenly. "Am I up to my armpits in shit creek? Sure. Am I yanking your chain? Hell, no." Sandy looked at her then, her black rimmed eyes shining with unshed tears. "I don’t wanna die."

 

"You’re scared."

 

"I am. I really am."

 

"Okay." MJ nodded. "I know some people, maybe I can call in some favors, get you into a place."

 

"Thank you," Sandy drawled. "I promise you won’t regret it."

 

"First things first: no promises."

 

"Okay."

 

"Give it your best shot."

 

"I will," Sandy vowed.

 

MJ looked her up and down one last time then went straight for the phone.

 

***

 

"I don’t think she's hungry," Helen said as she entered the kitchen. "She's asleep."

 

"I have a feelin' she hasn’t slept in days."

 

"A feelin'?" 

 

MJ grinned coyly and looked up from her pots and pans at Helen, who was leaning onto the counter. "I got a lotta feelins."

 

Helen tapped the marble counter with her fingernails.

 

"What?"

 

"Nothing..."

 

MJ bit her lip - she could feel Helen's gaze all over her. "What?"

 

"I like looking at you."

 

"Why, Doctor Hudson, are you gettin' familiar with me?"

 

Helen chuckled and rounded the counter. "How much more familiar do you want to get, Inspector?" She asked with what MJ could only describe as a leery smile.

 

"You're terrible," MJ said and stirred the sauce. "You gotta tone it down when Purcell's coming for dinner."

 

"He's coming for dinner?"

 

"Next week."

 

"You invited him?"

 

MJ shrugged. "I lost a bet of sorts."

 

"A bet?"

 

"He kept on nagging."

 

Helen blinked at her.

 

"What? I thought you liked him?"

 

"I do," the doctor said and MJ knew what was coming next. "I'm just surprised."

 

Pleased with herself, MJ just shrugged again and smiled. "Set the table, I'm hungry."

 

"Yes, Chef." 

 

As Helen gathered the plates and silverware, MJ turned the oven off - the salmon should be done. She really enjoyed their dinners, even when she was tired and overworked, this was always something to look forward to. With a smile on her face, MJ carried in the salmon and the  saucière while Helen brought the asparagus.

 

Perfect, she thought as she looked at the table, all laid out.

 

"Wanna tell me what's going on up there?"

 

MJ shook her head and sat gingerly. "Life's good."

 

"Sure does seem that way."

 

"Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, y'know?"

 

Helen shrugged. "If it drops, you at least have a pair."

 

"That's some wisdom."

 

"Something my dad always used to say."

 

"Ah," MJ nodded and began serving the food. "The miserable guy."

 

"That’s him."

 

"What’s his name?"

 

"Graham."

 

"Your mom?"

 

"Laura."

 

MJ memorized the names, trying to imagine them. For some reason she couldn’t picture Helen as anything but the woman she was now. "That them in the picture in the living room?"

 

"That’s them." Helen smiled at her, curious, MJ could tell. "Is this 20 questions?"

 

"Err...just getting some intel."

 

Helen picked at her food, smirking, and MJ knew she had amused the other woman in some way yet let it slide, for now.

 

"How's it going with Franco?"

 

"Romero?" MJ shrugged at the unexpected question. "Getting there. Why?"

 

"Just wondering," Helen said. "He seems very young for an Inspector."

 

"He's supposed to be some sort of genius, I don’t know. He came from San Diego, wanted to work homicide."

 

"Is he good?"

 

"At what?"

 

Helen poked her food again. "At having your back?"

 

Ah, MJ nodded slowly. "Don’t know yet but he can shoot, that’s for sure."

 

"Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better."

 

The phone interrupted their discussion. MJ groaned. "I gotta take this, I'm on call tonight."

 

Helen nodded.

 

"Sorry."

 

"I understand," the doctor said.

 

She meant it, MJ could tell, yet wondered for how long Helen would remain so understanding. 

 

Being a cop wasn’t easy and being with one certainly wasn’t either.

 

***

 

Helen watched the dark figure navigate the living room then bump into the sofa.

 

"Ow!"

 

"You okay?"

 

"Christ!" Sandy yelped. "You scared me! Jesus!" 

 

"I'm sorry." Helen abandoned her desk and the half eaten twizzler, and switched the lights on.

 

Sandy had plopped onto the sofa and was rubbing her toe. "I didn’t think anybody was still up."

 

"I'm waiting for MJ. She was called out."

 

"Oh...well, I'm going for a smoke."

 

"I'll join you," Helen said and wrapped the throw around her shoulders. Together they went outside onto the balcony. There was a chill in the air, carried by a mild breeze that made Helen shiver.

 

"You used to smoke, didn’t you?"

 

"A long time ago," Helen admitted then smiled, thinking of a time when it used to be fashionable to smoke. 

 

"I thought about quittin'."

 

"Why don’t you?"

 

Sandy shrugged and lit the cigarette. "Never seemed like the right time."

 

They stood in silence for a while then Helen studied the girl, curious. "Wanna tell me your real name?"

 

"Sandra," she said. "It is my real name."

 

"Sandra who?"

 

"Sandra Leigh Beauford."

 

Helen smiled. "And how old are you, Sandra Leigh Beauford?"

 

"18..." Sandy said with a pointed look.

 

"You sure about that?"

 

"I should know, it's my birthday today."

 

Helen stared at the girl, open mouthed, then shook her head in disbelieve. "Your birthday?"

 

"Yup...18 today."

 

"Why didn’t you say anything?"

 

"I just did..." Sandy dragged on her cigarette and gazed out at the sea. "So whats gonna happen to me now?"

 

Letting the subject drop, for now, Helen mimicked the girl's position and sighed. "MJ managed to get you a place in a really great program. They'll help you get back on your feet, get a job...you can even go back to school if you like."

 

"I hated school."

 

"I'm sure we all did at some point." 

 

"When am I goin'?"

 

"Tomorrow."

 

"Shit."

 

Helen reached out and held onto Sandy's arm, hoping to convey some sort of comfort. "Don’t worry, you'll be fine."

 

 

*****


	23. Solitude Made Perfect

 

 

"And?" Pachulsky prompted.

 

MJ just shrugged, hating the intense scrutiny. "Sicko."

 

"We knew that already."

 

"They took the death penalty off the table and no extradition to Arizona if they can help it in exchange for a full confession."

 

"Damn," Jackson said. "He talking?"

 

"Singing like a bird."

 

Pach whistled and put his feet up on his desk. "Did you get a good look at him?"

 

"I got more than just a good look," MJ said, gathering her things. "We had a two hour conversation. He told me everything."

 

"Damn!"

 

"There's two more that we didn’t know about and five rape cases in Arizona. He copped to everything."

 

The two men cheered then fell unusually silent. Looking up, MJ saw Nico packing up his desk. She wanted to groan, not in the least interested in yet another argument with him.

 

Picking up her stuff, MJ made to leave.

 

"Hey, MJ. Can we talk?"

 

"Not now, Nico."

 

"When? I been driving by your place, your car's not there, you’re not picking up the phone, where the heck are you?"

 

"Look," MJ said quietly, picking up her satchel. "I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. You made your feelings quite clear."

 

"Come on..."

 

"Seriously, Nico."

 

"Let me drop by next week. Are you staying with that broad still? I'll pick you up."

 

"No." She couldn’t make it any clearer. "I live with Helen now and I'd appreciate it if you didn’t call her a broad. That goes for you too, Pach."

 

"Jesus,” Nico said and shook his head. “Everybody kept saying it, I was defending you, but if you keep running your mouth like that, MJ, I don’t know--”

 

"Man, I think you need to calm down," Pach said.

 

"I can speak for myself."

 

Nico talked straight over her. "You need to shut your mouth, Pach," he said. "What the hell are you doing, MJ?"

 

"That’s none of your business..."

 

"How can you say that?"

 

MJ snorted. “You’re upset ‘cause everyone’s pokin’ fun at you. Well, I’m so sorry, Nico that my living with Helen’s causing you such inconvenience.”

 

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “So it’s true. You’re screwing her.”

 

"So what if I am?" MJ heard the words leave her mouth quite clearly yet she couldn’t believe she just said that. It was too late to backtrack, so she might as well finish it. "So what? It’s none of your goddamn business."

 

"Fuck!"

 

“And you know what I just about had? The fact that all this bullshit wasn’t ever about that promotion. You were already transferring out. You’re just pissed off I found someone who won’t screw me over.”

 

Nico said nothing - home run, sadly. 

 

"You’re such an asshole, man," Pach said, and that’s when MJ realized everyone was staring at her and the room had gone oddly quiet. 

 

_Shit_. 

 

Rubbing her forehead, MJ rounded her desk.

 

"I'm going home," she said to Pach who was still glowering at Nicoletti. "Helen's waiting," she added, just to make a point. "Can you make sure he gets the hell out of here?"

 

"Don’t worry, I’m leaving!"

 

"Hey," all three turned around at the voice. Helen, two cups of coffee in her hands, followed by Romero who was carrying a whole tray, had just entered the bullpen. "I got your coffee."

 

MJ tried not to look so grim and gave the woman a tight smile. "Thanks, Helen. C'mon, let's go."

 

"Jesus..." Nico mumbled.

 

"Get your shit and get out," Pach said. MJ gave him a long look - _he's not worth it_ \- and finally made to leave. Outside, in the hall, Helen sidled up to her.

 

"What did I just walk into?"

 

"Office politics," MJ said - she didn’t want to get into it.

 

"Politics?" She knew that Helen knew that she was merely being placated.

 

The inspector felt shame at her fib yet couldn’t bring herself to discuss the issue. She had just outed herself. And she had just told Nico to stick it where the sun don’t shine.

 

"Let's just go home," MJ said and unlocked the car. "I just wanna go home."

 

***

 

MJ hadn’t said a word for exactly 23 minutes and Helen began to worry. The drive home had been an icy affair. MJ had gripped the steering wheel really tightly and hadn’t even so much as glanced in her direction.

 

Helen felt like she was walking on eggshells.

 

Upstairs, in the apartment, MJ took off her gun, badge and cuffs and tossed her jacket over a chair. Helen followed her path through the living room and into the kitchen where the inspector took out a cold beer. She opened the bottle and took a large swig at the counter.

 

"What are you doing?" Helen asked, worried, yet somewhat angry at MJ's pathetic display. 

 

Then, suddenly, like she almost always did, MJ cried unexpectedly. Angry tears, mostly, like that time she had come straight to Helen after Reuben had died. Tears of regret, no sobs. 

 

"I just told half the precinct that we're sleeping together." She snorted. "More like the whole precinct. And by tomorrow the whole department will know about it."

 

Helen looked at the pitiful figure. "Sleeping together? I hope that’s not all you think we're doing."

 

"You know I didn’t mean it like that," MJ said and sighed heavily. "I didn’t mean it."

 

"I know you didn’t." Helen studied the woman who refused to meet her eye. "How come you announced it to the whole wide world?"

 

"Heat of the moment kind of thing."

 

"Ah," Helen said. "And how do you feel about it?"

 

"How do I feel about it?" 

 

MJ didn’t like the question, Helen could tell. 

 

"I don’t know how I feel about it. Stupid, mostly."

 

Helen sighed as well and eyed the bottle of beer on the counter. Beer had never been her first choice - wine and cognac and brandy. Looking at MJ's shaking hand around the bottle neck, Helen began to realize that the inspector wasn’t trembling in fear or shaking with anger.

 

She came closer and placed her hand very slowly, very gently onto MJ's shoulder. "What can I do?"

 

"I dunno." MJ shrugged and then looked up at her with an ernest expression. "I love you, you know?"

 

Helen smiled - _finally!_ "I know," she said gently then bent down and kissed the inspector. Everything felt startlingly real then. 

 

"I need to be with you," MJ said against her mouth and deepened their connection. 

 

Helen nodded - she would never say no - and immediately started on MJ's blouse. She had gotten quite good at divesting the inspector of her clothing; small delicate buttons, dainty zippers, tiny belt loops, it all came natural. 

 

MJ always approached things differently, passionately. Her best blazer dropped to the floor and she was sure she heard a button pop and then MJ's hands messed with her hair, greedily pawing at her chest then gripping her hips and steering her backwards.

 

As her legs hit the sofa, and MJ had torn her blouse and bra off, they tumbled onto the sofa in a heap of passionate kisses.

 

Lips roamed across her chest, warmth engulfed her nipple, teeth scraped and tucked. MJ's hand cupped her breast, squeezing, and her thigh settled between Helen's legs, snug and perfectly situated against her center. 

 

"Mary Jane..." She said - not that she was complaining about the rough treatment, of course.

 

"I have to have you," MJ mumbled against her breast. 

 

"You have me."

 

The inspector abandoned her nipple, cold air wafting over the damp spot, making Helen shiver then MJ kissed her again, all consuming, tongue taking over her mouth. 

 

Helen groaned; utterly delicious! Her hands meandered under the soft blouse, desperate to feel as much as possible. Palms flat against the damp skin, Helen touched, trailing lower and higher, fingers digging into muscle. Her hips moved against the firm thigh between her legs unashamedly, her obvious desire no longer cause for embarrassment.

 

MJ tore her lips away and kneeled above her, nimble fingers undoing her pants. Helen just let her, panting in anticipation until MJ shoved her hand into her pants, fingers penetrating her deeply until she couldn’t breathe. 

 

MJ groaned again - she enjoyed the feeling of being inside her, Helen knew that. Spreading her thighs a little to let the other woman settle between them, Helen pulled the crisp white blouse out of MJ's slacks then opened the button and zipper with the last coherent shred of concentration she had left. 

 

She pushed the pants down, and the underwear, just far enough to expose MJ's backside to her hands. Helen squeezed greedily - she loved MJ's ass, mostly naked and firm, but found her gaze lingering occasionally when the inspector left in the mornings in a tight skirt. 

 

The throbbing between her legs increased just thinking about it.

 

The fingers inside her curled ever so slightly and MJ's hand pushed itself firmly against her clit, the pressure was just right, and then her hips set a slow rhythm, sensual this time, Helen had to will herself, not hurried, no chasing her orgasm. 

 

This time she closed her eyes and buried her face in MJ's neck, surrounding herself with that familiar smell of her shampoo and the ever enticing flavor of her skin. MJ moved inside her, into her and out just a little, purposeful strokes, driving ever deeper with a mere thrust of her hips.

 

"Oh, Mary Jane," Helen whispered, eyes screwed shut, fingertips digging into the rhythmically swelling muscle of MJ's ass. 

 

She felt her own nipples harden impossibly, painfully sensitive against the material of MJ's bra as it scraped against her breasts, the sensation nearly too much, nearly undoing her yet too good to deny herself. Helen pushed her breasts firmer against MJ's chest, so close she could feel the tendons work in the inspector's arm, flexing against her belly, against her mound. 

 

Helen panted and listened to MJ's labored breathing, hot air expelling from her lungs in short bursts nearly identical, synchronized with her languid thrusts. Helen bit her lip to contain a groan at the realization that their coupling was on full display, that anyone who cared to look could see them having sex right there in front of the big bay windows.

 

She wanted to feel ashamed, that would have been appropriate, yet the cause of her blush was the embarrassing excitement at the notion that somebody might actually did care to watch. 

 

Her insides tightened around MJ's fingers, arousal curling along Helen's spine with fierce determination and, fingernails scraping across MJ's back, it was all she could do to keep from speeding things up. Desperate hands roamed, soothing the marks she left as Helen's head flopped back onto the sofa and she could see the expression on her lover's face.

 

Aroused and raw, dangerous desire shining in her eyes, her gaze almost as penetrating as her fingers, MJ looked utterly captivating. Helen gasped and shoved her hand between them and into MJ's pants. She was hot and slick, her sex wet and aroused without having been touched. 

 

Helen bit her lip as she touched MJ's clit, circling it, revelling in the feel of the hardened nub against her fingertips.

 

"Oh, Helen..." The inspector whispered as her eyes closed briefly, her face contorting in pleasure. "Inside," she croaked and canted her hips just so, and Helen obliged, her fingers sliding effortlessly into MJ.

 

"Oh," MJ moaned breathily. "Oh, Helen..."

 

She was terribly hot inside and wet, silky almost, her muscles contracting ever so slightly around Helen's fingers at the intrusion. Just feeling her, touching her so intimately nearly broke Helen apart. Looking up into MJ's wide brown eyes, she felt overwhelmed by the desire sparked by their deep connection. 

 

Their lips connected and Helen just thought that it was all over when MJ kissed her like that, deep and probing, even though it was all slow. Sighing into MJ's mouth and moving in time with her, Helen held on, her thighs tightening around the inspector's hips. 

 

"Oh, god," she moaned and pushed her hand against MJ's center. It was no good, this would kill her. "I can't," she said and MJ bit her lip.

 

"Me too..."

 

Three hard thrusts and she clawed at MJ's delicate skin, nails dug firmly into her ass cheek and then, one more, "Yes!"

 

She felt her lover's muscles contract, gripping her so impossibly tight that Helen dissolved into her own orgasm. 

 

Panting against warm, moist lips through every wave, hers' or MJ's, Helen wasn’t sure as it all melted together, both of them, into one.

 

Releasing her tight grip and opening her eyes, Helen looked up at MJ's serene features. "We really have to stop doing that, honey," she said, still out of breath.

 

MJ opened her eyes. "Doing what?"

 

"Not getting undressed...and not making it to a bed."

 

The inspector snorted, amused, and laid down gingerly on top of her. She trailed gentle kisses along her jaw and lips as she pulled her fingers out slowly. Helen did the same, carefully then stroked along MJ's back. 

 

"I dread to think what I've done to you this time," Helen said and bit her lip guiltily, fingertips tracing long, bumpy scratches.

 

"You know I like it," MJ grinned, "Gives me something to think about the next day."

 

"You're terrible." Helen smiled and caressed MJ's slightly damp yet cooling skin. 

 

"Hey, Doc?"

 

"Yes, Inspector?"

 

"I love you."

 

Helen sighed, contend. “I love you, too.”

 

 

~fin~


End file.
